


War Stories

by bren97122



Series: The Huntress and the Deputy Universe [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Falling In Love, Prequel, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-07-13 19:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16024574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bren97122/pseuds/bren97122
Summary: A prequel to The Huntress and the Deputy.Deputy Morgan Rook and Jess Black were two very different people from very different worlds. They never would have met in a normal life. But, the universe conspired to bring them together during a distinctly not-normal time. This is the story of those very not-normal times.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello reader! This is a prequel to my story The Huntress and the Deputy and uses the characters and situations established there. Whether you're familiar with that one or not, please enjoy and let me know what you think.

Morgan Rook stared at the smoldering ruins of what had been his house.

The modest rental home he had been living in for the past two months had been the victim of a Molotov Cocktail tossed by a zealous cultist when he and his buddies rolled into Fall's End intent on cleansing the place of sin or whatever it was they were fond of doing.

The junior deputy kicked a small piece of burnt wood with the toe of his boot, as if that would somehow alleviate the fact most of his possessions had gone up in flames. With a deep exhale, Morgan walked over the blackened remains of wood and tile, his feet crunching over the charred remnants. He reached the very back of the house, which had been somewhat spared by the flames, but was still a total write-off.

What had used to be his bedroom was somewhat intact. His bed was covered with ash and burnt timber, while the clothes in his wardrobe had been completely lost to smoke and fire damage. Underneath a small table was the one thing he was looking for- his safe. Fire and water resistant, the small steel safe had hopefully safeguarded his most important and prized possessions.

Morgan leaned down and opened it up, finding that everything inside was still intact. The safe contained most mundane things- his important documents, some other papers, the like. There were a few things of more sentimental value, though, things he had stashed just in case something like this had happened. One of these things was a worn picture of him and his parents at his college graduation. And a picture of his and his sister, back years ago during much happier times. Times before she became lost, never to return.

In the back was a black pistol case that contained the first firearm he ever purchased- a matte black Browning Hi-Power, chambered in 9mm. It was just a gun, sure. But it was his. And his dad helped him pick it out on his 21st birthday.

Morgan put everything retrieved from his safe in the backpack he took off a dead man on Dutch's Island. His Browning went into the thigh holster he looted off a cultist, swapping places with the well-worn Colt M1911A1 pistol Dutch had gifted him. It was a cool piece, probably something Dutch bought home from Vietnam. But Morgan wanted his pistol instead.

Morgan could feel that his foreseeable future will be full of scavenging whatever he could find. All he had were the contents of his backpack and the clothes on his back- not even his, they were a grey t-shirt and dirty blue jeans Dutch let him take. Over his shirt was a coyote brown plate carrier with an armored plate inserted inside and a few pouches for spare magazines attached to the chest. That was looted from a prepper's stash while Morgan made his way to Fall's End.

Fall's End. This tiny, tiny town. Sleepy. Safe. Turned into a warzone overnight.

Morgan turned and saw two townspeople hauling away dead cultists who were going to be added to a mass grave outside of town.

He shook his head at the sight. It had just been a... surreal few days.

They just  _had_ to go and arrest fucking Joseph Seed. But how were they supposed to know that would kick off this war?

When Morgan came to Hope County, he quickly became familiar with Eden's Gate. But he thought little of them at the time. They were armed. They were sizable. Sure. But they did not really do anything  _bad_ , at least Morgan thought. Sheriff Whitehorse seemed to be wary of them, but even Morgan thought Whitehorse was overreacting. They were just a bunch of weirdos running around in the woods. He never expected them to embark on a crusade against the entire county.

Morgan shouldered his bag and shifted the custom AR-15 he had looted from an Eden's Gate truck around in his hands. He had been busy the past two days. Almost dying in a chopper crash, almost getting murdered by Joseph's gun-toting fanatics. Getting into open conflict with cultists on the roads of Hope as he fought his way to Fall's End.

He had been impressed with himself so far. He had managed to kill close to two dozen people single handedly. And he did not feel a thing. Probably because Morgan realized there was no reasoning with these people. You pull the trigger, or die. Or worse.

Morgan had never shot another human being until recently. Now, he was getting good at it. Which was a plus, since Morgan realized there would be a large amount of killing to be had in his future. His fight to Fall's End had also not ended with him getting shot. No injuries to speak of, in fact. That was a good start. Time would tell if he could keep it up.

People were talking about fighting back. Morgan knew it had to be done. He did not want to live under the thumb of this fucking cult. He knew he had to help stop their rampage across the county.

Mary May Fairgrave, the pretty bar owner that Morgan knew in passing, had big plans for taking back their home. She had stepped up to keep things together in Fall's End and was praising Morgan like he was some kind of Montanan Rambo. Really, Morgan was just doing what felt natural. Kill or be killed, that sort of thing.

Mary had plans, sure, but the burgeoning Hope County Resistance was short on firepower and people. Morgan knew the fight to retake the entire county would be a hard one. Since people were already looking at him to be some sort of leader, he certainly had his work cut out for him.

He pushed open the door to the Spread Eagle, where Mary was leaning over the bar counter.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hi, deputy. You get anything from your house?" she asked.

Morgan nodded once.

"Just a couple things."

Mary smiled.

"Well, that's good to hear. Listen- I have a spare room upstairs. Why don't you make yourself at home?"

"Thanks, ma'am. I'll do that."

Mary laughed softly.

"Ah shit, seriously, just call me Mary. I think we're gonna become very familiar with each other over the next few days."

He smiled back.

"Yeah. Looks like it."

* * *

Jess Black knew this would happen.

She knew. She knew ever since the fucking Cook murdered her parents in front of her and her brother Travis.

Now, Travis was gone, disappeared to God knows where. It was just her now fighting her own little war, a war she had been waging by herself for years now. She knew Eden's Gate relatively well by now. They liked to keep their operations under wraps. Two days ago, though, they started an all-out war against Hope County. Jess figured something like would be coming, but never knew when. Obviously, something had to trigger that.

She had heard that the cops had tried to arrest Joseph Seed. Bad move. Very bad move. She figured that Joseph's fellow Kool-Aid drinkers figured this was the start of the apocalypse, giving them a perfect excuse to drop all pretense of peace and plunder and pillage at their leisure.

For Jess, this made her job just a bit easier in some ways. They were everywhere now. More targets. More Peggies to kill.

Jess had been waiting for this and now, it was time to really work.

Jess usually worked alone. Everyone knew that. But sometimes, it helped to get someone else to do the work for her.

Eli Palmer had called her earlier. As she figured, he and the rest of his Whitetail Militia had retreated to the Wolf's Den to begin their guerilla war against the cult. Jess liked Eli and his Whitetails. They were some of the few people who knew what was up with the cult before this war began.

Eli had some juicy information for her. His scouts had located The Cook.

Apparently, the psychotic pyromaniac had been spotted in the area surrounding the old Baron Lumber Mill, which the cult had turned into a makeshift prison camp. It would be a tough infiltration- the Peggies would be crawling all over the area. But Jess liked it tough.

Jess walked through the cool halls of Eli's bunker. Around her, various militia men and women were busy readying weapons or explosives or planning out their next course of action.

She found Eli leaning over a topographic map of the Whitetail Mountains. He gave a few orders to his assembled fighters before looking up at her.

"Oh, you came," he said to her, sounding a bit surprised.

She nodded.

"Yeah, 'cause you got info for me, right?"

"Right. So, you're looking for a specific Peggie, right?"

Jess crossed her arms. She was hoping Eli would just get to the point so she could get hunting.

"The fuckin' Cook," she spat.

"Well, one of my guys spotted him rounding up people and bringing them to the lumber mill. He should still be there, if you can catch him."

She smiled briefly. Jess rarely smiled. Smiling was for people who had something to feel good about.

"Okay, then," Jess replied simply as she turned to exit Eli's bunker.

"Wait, Jess," Eli said.

She stopped and quickly rotated to face him.

"Yeah?" she asked impatiently.

"Be careful. Okay?" Eli told her. He seemed genuinely concerned.

Jess did not really care, though.

"Yeah. Whatever," she mumbled at him before finally leaving.

Eli watched her disappear. He sighed softly before turning his attention back to the map.

* * *

Jess allowed the warm early Summer sun to warm her face for a few brief moments. Relishing in this brief pleasure, she adjusted her hood and jogged lightly down the trail, which was speckled by shadows cast by the treetops overhead.

She had killed three cultists already. This was a good sign. They did not usually operate in this area. Eli's intel was good.

 _Where the fuck are you?_  She thought to herself as she stalked forward, one hand around her bow just in case.

She just needed to watch The Cook die, then she would be happy. Something in her chest tightened at the anticipation of finally,  _finally_  killing that fucker. It took years, but now, she would have an arrow through his eye by the end of the afternoon.

As she hopped over a fallen log, Jess heard voices and footsteps crunching on the ground. She paused and looked through the undergrowth. A few feet ahead of her was a cultist patrol. They were chatting idly, apparently taking a break from whatever crazy bullshit they were up to.

They had not heard her coming. Of course not.

Jess bent down into a crouch and raised her bow. She allowed herself to grin slightly as her sights settled on the shaggy head of a male cultist playing with his machete.

"Sleep tight, mother-" she began to mutter.

A cry from behind her went out, followed by a sharp  _twack_ to the back of her head. Jess cried out and her arrow loosed itself over the heads of her foes and into the trees somewhere.

White spots clouded her vision as the back of her head pulsed with pain. Jess stumbled up to her feet, one hand around her bow.

"Hey! I got someone over here! Help me out!" a male voice behind her shouted out. She could see the cultists running to his position.

 _Fuck you for getting the drop on me_.

Jess rounded, pushing past the pain and facing the Peggie who jumped her.

He was pointing a revolver at her face.

"Now, you just sit still, sister," he warned.

Jess scowled and launched a fist at him. He sidestepped it and whipped her across the cheek with the butt of his pistol.

She growled and tried to punch him once more, but another cultist caught her arm and forced her to the ground.

"Get the fuck off of me!" she screamed as she tried to punch with her left arm. Another cultist planted a boot into her stomach, causing her to violently exhale involuntarily. Another man used this opportunity to stomp on her left arm, right at the bend.

Jess flailed her legs, trying to kick anyone who was close enough.

"Stop your moving or I'll break both of your fucking legs!" a Peggie shouted at her, gesturing with his baseball bat for emphasis.

Jess paused and then finally ceased her movements. She shot her eyes back and forth between the men who captured her, hate very clearly evident in them.

"Let me go or I'm gonna skin you fuckers alive," she spat.

One of them chuckled.

"You ain't in no position to be making the threats, girl."

"What do we do with her?" someone asked his comrades.

One man stepped forward and drew a pistol from a leather chest holster.

"Well, she seemed to be a bit of trouble. I say we just put her down."

"Sounds good with me," the cultist to his right said with a nod.

Jess gritted her teeth. She was so goddamn close…

The man raised his pistol in a one handed grip.

"Whoa! Hold up!"

One of the Peggies reached out and grabbed the pistol-wielder's arm.

"What?"

"I know her. That's Jess Black. Jacob wants her."

All of the cultists stared down at her.

"Let's get her back to the camp, then," one of them said.

"Oh, fuck you!" Jess snapped as they clamped arms around her to haul her up.

"Someone  _please_  shut her up!"

"You fucking pricks, you have no idea what I'm going to-"

A cultist wrapped a gag around her mouth.

* * *

It has been two weeks since the liberation of Fall's End. Two busy, sleepless weeks where Morgan and anyone else who wanted to fight did everything they could to reclaim their home.

The cult had been weakened by his actions throughout Holland Valley, but they were far from finished. Morgan had decided to head out to the rest of the county and see what the rest of the situation was.

He found himself with a rare moment of peace. Using this time wisely, Morgan ate some lunch. An MRE cracker and some Fritos. Not exactly the best meal, but he packed light.

Licking off Frito dust from his fingers, Morgan picked up his radio and pressed the talk button.

"Hey, Dutch, I've crossed into the Whitetail Mountains. Can you tell me anything about what I'll run into up here?"

Dutch gave him the lowdown. The Whitetails were quite the interesting place. Jacob Seed, a certifiable grade-A sadistic motherfucker, was running the place. The Whitetail Militia was waging a war against the cult. Monstrous mutant wolves roamed the mountains and were tearing apart anyone they came across. There was a trained bear loose that was busy eating Peggies. And then there was some guy named Hurk up here too. He seemed interesting.

But Dutch let on another interesting tidbit Morgan did not know about.

There was something going on at the old Baron Lumber Mill.

"Only message I got was from my niece, Jess. She said the cult turned the lumber mill into a prison camp. Maybe you can start there."

Morgan chewed on his Fritos thoughtfully at that sentence.

_Dutch has a niece? That's news to me._

Cleaning off his hands with some water, Morgan gathered up his things and went back to the ATV he had "borrowed" from some Peggies. He had work to do.

* * *

A cultist strolled by Jess's cell and peered into it to look at her. Jess glared up at him. She sat crossed legged, leaning against the back of her makeshift cell.

"Fuck you looking at?" she growled.

The man just shook his head and walked away.

Jess sighed quietly and stared at the gate to her prison. She glared at it, as if that would will it to open.

She could not believe the sudden turn of events. One moment… she was a mere few hours from putting The Cook in the ground. Now, she had spent the last two days peeing in a bucket and getting preached at by these psychos.

Jess spent the many hours dreaming up increasingly creative and slightly improbable ways of murdering The Cook, Joseph, John, Jacob, and Faith.

_I'll get the fuck out of here. It's just a matter of time._

A small voice nagged from the back of her head.

_Your luck's run out. This is it, Jessica. You're fucked._

Jess scowled and lightly smacked herself on the cheek for even suggesting that she was done for. She was not giving up. The cultists were not professional. They would slip up. It was only a matter of time. As soon as she saw an opening- she would take it.

A gunshot broke the relative silence of the prison camp. Jess jerked up at the loud crack.

She smiled slightly to herself.

 _And here's my opening_.

* * *

 

Morgan crouched behind a rock, poking out from the side to observe the cultists milling around the Baron Lumber Mill. He could see people in cages, people handcuffed and being shipped off to God-knows-where.

He turned to Amy Nichols, one of the Resistance members in his little strike group. To say she was "young" was an understatement. The girl looked barely out of high school.

"See, deputy?" she whispered to him.

"Yeah. I see. There's a lot of them. You ready to do this?" Morgan asked, addressing the other five people with him.

They all nodded.

Amy's blood red hair bobbed as she nodded her head.

"My friends are there. We gotta do this," she said.

"My wife might be in there," hissed Frank Fletcher, who adjusted his grip on the Heckler and Koch HK21 machine gun he had somehow come across.

"Alright. Someone kick this off," Morgan said.

One Resistance member, Brad McAllister, stepped up, raising up his scoped Marlin lever action.

"I'm getting that guy on the roof," he announced before sighting up his target and pulling the trigger.

The single .45-70 Government round nearly knocked the patrolling cultist off his feet. The others in the compound jumped in surprise at the gunshot and immediately ran to take their positions.

Morgan and the others advanced, immediately opening fire on the cultists responding to the attack. A cultist raised his shotgun at Morgan as he rounded a corner, but he was too slow. Morgan put two rounds from his AR-15 through his chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Amy came up behind him, rapidly firing her AR at a pair of advancing cultists, both of whom she dispatched. Frank sprinted past both of them and hosed down a large group of cultists who were unfortunate enough to be caught up running out of the main building with machine gun fire.

Clambering up to reach the main building, Morgan lifted himself up and into an open window into the old lumber mill. A cultist whipped around as he heard Morgan's feet touch the ground, but Morgan was faster. He fired once, catching the cultist in the heart before he could even reach for his holster.

Morgan shouldered past the half-open door to the outside catwalks. He blasted one more cultist providing sniper support before pausing and squinting at the distance.

Dust was being kicked up by a pair of SUVs loaded with Peggies bearing down on the lumber mill, no doubt responding to the shitstorm Morgan and the others kicked up.

"Hey!" he called down to Amy and Frank, who were directly below him.

"We've got backup coming in!"

They both nodded and fanned out, warning the other Resistance fighters of the impending threat.

Morgan rested his rifle on the railing of the catwalk. He peered down the reflex sight and exhaled as he pulled the trigger. The windshield of the first truck became splattered with blood after the driver took a 5.56mm round through the cranium. The truck took a sharp left and crashed into the side of an office trailer.

The cultists within the truck attempted to scramble out, but were swiftly cut down by rifle fire. The second vehicle, a white Jeep, was met with a fusillade of fully-automatic 7.62mm fire from Frank's machine gun. The Jeep barely stood a chance. Its driver quickly dispatched, the Jeep coasted into a concrete barricade. Frank laid on the fire, reducing the vehicle to Swiss Cheese. He only stopped once his entire belt was expended. No one walked out.

Morgan dropped out an empty magazine from his rifle and loaded a fresh one.

"I think we're clear," Morgan said, his feet kicking spent casings.

Amy nodded.

"I think we properly fucked 'em up," the young woman said proudly.

"Indeed we did," Morgan agreed.

He looked around at the various prisoners the cult had amassed, most of whom had hit the deck once the shooting started. A few started to nervously peer up now that the bullets stopped flying.

"What do you say we get these people out of here?" Morgan suggested.

* * *

Jess sat patiently in her cell. She knew something had happened. Maybe the Whitetails raided the place. She could not see much from where she was, but could hear the fierce sounds of a gun battle and the screams of people falling in combat. A few bullets had pinged off the side of her cell, but she had not been hit by any stray rounds.

A dark-skinned woman approached her cell, a pair of bolt cutters slung over her shoulders.

Jess watched her snip the padlock keeping Jess imprisoned and pulled open the door. Jess smiled and nodded to her as she sat up, a stride in her step. Now that this setback was behind her, she could get back to work.

Most everyone else who had been freed was busy breathlessly thanking the Resistance members who had let them out. Jess saved her thanks- she had lost enough time already. If The Cook was still in the area, she had to catch up to him and end this once and for all.

She made her way over to the crates of weapons and gear confiscated by the cult. Without wasting a moment, Jess located her bow, quiver, and knife. She was so focused with getting her shit together, she could not hear the footsteps behind her.

"Everything okay?" a man's voice asked.

Jess turned to see a white guy with medium length, swept back black hair staring at her. He had deep green eyes that he blinked twice, as if he was surprised by her appearance. She got that a lot.

He was holding an AR-15 loosely with one hand. A golden Sheriff's Department badge was pinned to his tan plate carrier.

She nodded.

"Thanks for busting me out. Name's Jess. If you're out here pickin' fights with the cult, then I'm guessin' you already know my uncle Dutch."

"Yeah, I know Dutch. He saved my ass two weeks back. I'm Morgan Rook, by the way. Hope County Sheriff's Department… what's left of it."

 _Morgan Rook. Dutch mentioned that name once or twice over the radio… I think. Sounds familiar_ , she thought.

"Look, I don't got a lot of time to waste, I'm going to get right to the point. I was on the trail of one of Jacob's zealots. Goes by the name 'The Cook.' Yeah, that don't sound so scary. But believe me- he's one twisted fuck."

The guy nodded once.

"Almost tracked him down, but a Peggie patrol got the drop on me. I need your help. We can't let this trail go cold. This guy's butchered a lot of innocent folk around here. Can't let him get away with it any longer. Gotta move- wasted too much time already. Follow me."

Jess bounded off for the woods, just now realizing there was not much of a chance this guy would actually follow her. She was not even sure why she tried to rope him into her quest. Maybe he just gave off… a vibe. Or something.

As Jess hopped over a bubbling stream, she could hear boots crunching in the grass behind her. She spared a glance over her shoulder.

Morgan Rook was right behind her. Seemed he wanted to follow her after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Morgan watched Jess stalk away down the path, her back to him.

"Well, it was fun meeting you, Jess," he muttered to himself, "but I think I'll let you do your thing. You're a little too crazy for me."

Hope County was certainly full of characters, but Morgan had yet to meet someone like her. She was quite the… unique sort of person. He was able to deduce that much. But, there was her undeniable skill with a bow. And her ability to just glide over the forest floor without making a sound. Morgan was suddenly glad she was on her side. Maybe he would have to take her up on that offer for help. Sometimes, he would find himself in situations that require a little subtlety. He was no ninja, nor were most of the people he recruited to help in the fight.

Morgan had already met two people who had a particularly useful set of abilities, more than the average Hope County resistance fighter. There was Grace Armstrong, a former Army sniper and Olympic silver medalist sharpshooter. Morgan had heard her name before, but never met the woman. He had only wished their first meeting was under better circumstances. Grace was not exactly a people person, but her skill with a rifle was undeniable.

Then there was Nick Rye, a local pilot who had rigged up his ancient seaplane into a ground attack aircraft. He was easier to talk to than Grace; always quick with a quip or joke. Nick had taken an immediate liking to Morgan, for whatever reason. Nick really was a great guy, a dedicated family man who loved his home and wife, Kim.

But neither of them were exactly very subtle. Grace's 7.62x51mm AR-10 was not exactly a quiet weapon to begin with and she refused to use a suppressor.

"I want 'em to hear me coming," she told him once.

And Nick flew around in a bright yellow prop-driven seaplane that rained down minigun fire and high-explosive bombs.

Jess would be quite useful, giving the current circumstances.

Morgan turned on his heels and started off down the road. His radio buzzed and he withdrew it from his hip. It was Dutch.

" _That niece of mine don't make friends easily. But if you want things done quickly and quietly, she's your girl. Keep her safe for me, okay? She's been through a lot._ "

Morgan nodded.

"Of course, Dutch. You can count on me."

* * *

"We gotta take this place back," Mary said to those gathered around her, jabbing a finger on a red circle she had placed on a map of Hope County.

Morgan, Mary, Pastor Jerome Jeffries, and several other members of Hope County's burgeoning resistance were gathered around a table in the Spread Eagle where they planned their next move. The cult had not attempted to take back Fall's End and it was becoming the base of operations for the fight to retake Holland Valley.

A task which was certainly easier said than done.

Morgan had already helped take back a few outposts across Hope County, but the cult still held the entire area in a stranglehold. The resistance had none of the manpower or material available to the cult, but they had to do something. No one was coming to save them.

"What's so special about that place?" Morgan asked.

"Kellett Cattle Company. They've been in the valley for the past hundred years. They own something like two hundred heads of cattle and supply most of the beef around the valley. Cult took them over last night. They're probably gonna ship all their cows over to their fuckin' bunkers. And the Kelletts are good people. I don't wanna see the cult hurt them," Mary explained.

Morgan nodded once.

"Right. Well, I can head out there now. Who can back me up?"

Jeffries and Mary looked at each other.

Morgan chuckled.

"I can already guess what you two will say…"

"We can't spare anyone, deputy," Jeffries said gloomily.

"That's fine," Morgan replied, gathered up his backpack and getting ready to hit the road.

"Morgan, wait!" Mary protested.

"I can do it myself."

Mary frowned.

"There's gonna be twelve of them and one of you. I ain't letting you get in a firefight you can't win, Morgan."

"Wait until we can spare some help. Then we can take back the ranch," Jeffries said.

Morgan shook his head.

"No. We can't let the cult take more of our food. Plus, if I can stop them from killing one more person, then I'll take it."

Mary sighed heavily and folded her arms.

"Well… is there anyone who can help you? Someone you can call?"

Morgan shrugged.

"Not that I know of…"

He paused.

There was someone.

"Wait… yeah."

"Who?" Mary inquired.

"Uh, this woman I met a few days ago. Jess Black?"

Mary's eyes widened.

"Jess Black? Really?"

"Yeah, you know her?"

Mary nodded.

"Yeah… we went to high school together. How is she? I haven't seen her in ages."

"She's, uh, fine. Apparently, she's been spending a lot of time killing Peggies."

Mary smirked.

"Sounds like her. Well, give her a call. She's… nice," Mary said, somewhat hesitantly.

Morgan laughed.

"Oh, yeah. She's something."

Morgan gathered up his gear and pushed the door to the Spread Eagle to exit. Shouldering his rifle, Morgan felt around his plate carrier for the number of spare magazines he had and made sure his thigh holster was secure.

As he walked to the end of town, Morgan withdrew his radio and tuned it to the frequency Jess said to find her at.

"Hey, Jess, you there? It's me- Morgan. You know, the deputy?"

He waited a moment for her to reply. Soon, static crackled on his end.

" _Oh, hey. Yeah, I'm here, what's up?_ "

He smiled as he was half not expecting her to answer him.

"I need some help clearing out the Peggies from an outpost here in Holland Valley. Can you help? I'm down in Fall's End."

There was a pause followed by some white noise.

" _Will this involve killing Peggies?_ "

Morgan chuckled.

"Yeah, of course it will."

" _Then I'll be in town in half an hour_."

* * *

"Hey," Jess greeted Morgan, who she found sitting on a bench outside the town's church.

"Hey, Jess, thanks for coming," Morgan said as he rose to meet her.

"Yeah, no problem. Thanks for having me along. Can't pass up killing Peggies."

He smirked.

"Figured you wouldn't."

"Okay, let's stop wasting time and get going. Sound good?" Jess said in a somewhat demanding tone, a tone Morgan felt he should get used to.

Morgan nodded.

"You wanna walk?"

"Yeah. Can't hear you coming that way."

* * *

"One more time. Where's the key to your gun locker?" a cultist sneered down at the bound Jim Kellett.

"Go fuck yourself," he snapped back.

"Wrong answer," the cultist said. He looked up at the shotgun-wielding cultist behind Jim and nodded. The cultist smashed the stock of his shotgun into the back of Jim's head, sending him falling roughly to the ground.

"Jim! Jim!" his wife, Maria, cried out as she struggled to break free of the two cultists restraining her.

Jim spat out blood the glared up at his interrogator.

"You fucking assholes are already taking my herd, my food, now you want my guns? Fuck you, fuck your cult, and fuck your father!"

Scowling, the lead cultist drew his revolver and walked over to where the Kellett's two young children, Tanya and Cody, were bound.

"The guns. Now," he instructed, raising his gun.

From their hidden spot behind a trailer, Jess and Morgan both frowned.

"I've had enough of this. Let's do something," Jess said as she drew her bow.

Morgan nodded.

"Yeah. You wanna do this quietly?"

"Normally, I'd say 'yes.' But I don't think we have time for sneaky shit."

"Okay. How you wanna play this?"

"Follow my lead," Jess said as she stood up and drew back her bow.

"Wait, what are you-"

Jess let her arrow loose, where it quickly zipped through the air and impacted with the cultist threatening the children.

He fell to the ground, screaming in pain as he fruitlessly tried to pull out the carbon fiber arrow. Jess advanced swiftly, sending another arrow into the chest of a cultist standing at the doorway to the Kellett house.

Morgan sprinted out, AR-15 in hand. He paused and sent two rounds into the torso of a cultist that was taking aim at Jess.

The Peggies shouted orders to each other and began to return fire. Jim Kellett got to his feet and shoulder bashed a cultist out of his way as he ran to cover. Maria screamed and ran over to her kids, grabbing them and running out of the crossfire as the cultists abandoned her to open fire on Morgan and Jess.

"We need help! The Kellett farm is under attack!" a cultist shouted desperately into his walkie talkie as one of Jess's arrows slammed through his head.

"They're sending backup!" Jess shouted to Morgan over the gunshots.

He nodded once and sighted up a cultist who popped his head up over the crate he was taking cover behind. A single round blew off most of his head.

Morgan jumped out from where he was hiding and ran into the Kellett house. Bullets whizzed past him as he ran through the open front door.

"Hey!" a cultist exclaimed as he ran into the living room at the same time Morgan did.

Morgan swung the stock of his rifle towards the man's face, but he ducked underneath it and ran forward to tackle Morgan. The deputy grunted in pain as the cultist slammed Morgan into the Kellett's fireplace.

The two grappled for several seconds, with Morgan trying to get to the knife at his belt while at the same time warding off the cultist's attempts to strangle him.

He suddenly lurched forward and groaned, letting go of Morgan. As Morgan pushed him away, he saw Jess had plunged her knife into the cultist's back. With some effort, she pushed the larger man off her blade and let him fall to the ground.

"You okay?" she asked as she wiped off the blood from her knife.

"Yeah, fine. Are you okay?"

She chuckled.

"Of course I am."

Jess looked up and her eyes widened.

"Get down!" she shouted as she grabbed Morgan's arm and hauled him down with her.

Bullets tore apart the window and wall where Morgan and Jess had just previous stood by. They covered their heads as glass and wood fragments showered them.

"There's the reinforcements," Jess said.

"I didn't notice," Morgan replied sarcastically as he brushed dust and wood fragments out of his hair.

Jess looked at him, smirked, and rolled her eyes before getting to her feet.

Morgan quickly followed after her.

"Wait a second," he said, grabbing her by the arm.

Morgan withdrew a stick of dynamite from his plate carrier.

"Well, look at you. Prepared for anything."

He grinned.

"Oh, yeah."

Morgan drew his Zippo and lit the fuse, immediately hearing the distinctive hissing noise.

Taking cover under the window, Morgan wound up his arm and tossed the dynamite out the window.

"Oh shit!" a Peggies screamed.

Morgan covered his ears just in time for the massive explosion to shake the entire house. Not wasting a moment, Morgan and Jess got up and ran back outside to find a cultist pickup mangled by the explosion and several dead cultists or pieces of cultists scattered all over the yard. A few more men were picking themselves up, stunned by the explosion. They were easy pickings for Morgan and Jess.

Surveying the carnage, Morgan withdrew the partially full magazine from his rifle and loaded a fresh one.

"I think that's all of them," he said.

Jess nodded.

"I'd say so."

She stowed her bow and cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Hey! You can come out now!"

A nearby shed opened and the Kellett family tentatively walked out but relaxed upon seeing all the cultists were indeed dead.

Jim Kellett shook his head in astonishment.

"Did you two do all this?" he asked Morgan and Jess.

They both nodded.

"All in a day's work," Jess said with a shrug.

Maria smiled.

"Thank you, Mr.…?"

"Rook. Deputy Rook, Hope County Sheriff's Department," he finished for her.

She nodded.

"Oh! You must be that new junior deputy. Well… I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances."

Maria turned to Jess.

"And thank you, Ms.-"

"Just call me Jess."

"Right. Jess. Thank you."

Jim sighed and looked at his bullet-ridden home.

"Goddamnit. I thought the cult would just leave us alone if we agreed to give them some of our beef. No. They wanted  _all_  of it and were ready to pack us up and ship us to one of their bunkers."

"The cult's not gonna leave anyone alone, Mr. Kellett. We're on our own now. The only way any of us are going to get through this is if we all work together," Morgan explained.

He nodded.

"You tell Mary May back in Fall's End that the militia can have whatever they need from us."

Morgan smiled.

"I'll let her know. But don't worry, sir. We won't be taking everything you have. I'll see if I can send some people down here to clean up the mess and guard your herd. The cult wants to starve us out- we need to keep the farms under our control."

Jim extended his hand and Morgan met it with his own. They firmly shook hands while Kellett nodded.

"Thanks, deputy."

"No problem. Let us know if the cult comes back."

Morgan motioned for Jess to follow and the two walked down the driveway back to Fall's End.

* * *

"So, I guess you'll call me when you have more for me to do?" Jess asked once they were back in town

Morgan nodded.

"What are you gonna do now?" he inquired.

"Head out to the woods. Set up camp for tonight. Try to bag dinner."

"Why don't you just hang out here tonight?" he asked.

"This town's a dump and full of fucked up memories," Jess said quietly.

She looked up at the Spread Eagle and sighed.

"But it feels good to have it back."

"It sure does," Morgan replied with a smile.

"Well. Let me know, Morgan. Later."

"See you."

Morgan watched as Jess turned and jogged out of town. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. She was an… interesting person to be around. But he was starting to make up his mind about her- he liked her. The first impression he got was that she was a bit crazy, but he surely could not discount her skill with a bow. He never liked bows. Too complicated. Guns were easier and usually more effective, he thought.

The fact that someone could do all this crazy shit with a bow still astounded him. Jess was definitely someone to keep around.

Morgan walked up to the Spread Eagle and pushed open the door. Mary looked up from the partially disassembled AR-15 she was cleaning.

"Hey, deputy!" she called to him with a smile.

"Hey, Mary. Did you hear from the Kelletts?"

She nodded.

"Yep. They were talkin' all about the deputy and his friend with the bow that swooped in out of nowhere and destroyed two dozen cultists without breaking a sweat."

Morgan chuckled and looked at his feet, an embarrassed smile creeping across his face.

"Well… I will have you know I broke a few sweats."

She laughed and smiled back at him.

"So, how was Jess?" she inquired.

Morgan nodded and shrugged.

"She was good. Really good. She's something with that bow, all right. You said you knew her, right?"

"Yep. I remember her from high school. She's two years older than me, so I never really talked to her or anything. But I  _definitely_ heard about her. She had a, uh, reputation. Got into fights a lot, sold weed, hung out with some major assholes. You know, a lot of people said she once set fire to the principal's car. Supposedly. I heard her parents were murdered sometime after the cult first showed up here. Of course, no one was officially arrested or anything. But after that, I heard Jess sorta dropped off the radar. Then I started hearing stories of someone killing cultists with a bow and arrow. Then people started saying it was her."

"Oh, I think it was," Morgan said.

Mary chuckled.

"Yeah. I figured it was too. But anyway, I'm glad she's doing okay and I'm glad she's helping us in the fight."

"Me too. So, can I have a beer? I'm fucking parched."

Mary grinned and reached under the counter for a glass.

"Let me rehydrate you."

* * *

Jess stared into the flickering campfire as she chewed on a mouthful of boar meat. Outside the firelight of her little campsite, nighttime insects chirped, buzzed, and did whatever it was they did.

She was thinking about the last couple of days. It had certainly been a big week so far. Of course, she managed to finally put down The Cook. But, she was surprised to find she was not as satisfied as she thought she would be. Maybe that's why she decided to offer her services to the deputy.

Morgan Rook. Jess had not made her mind up about him yet.

He was a good shooter, but piss poor at being sneaky. She hoped in the future that Morgan would let her do all the sneaky stuff.

That is, if he called her up again. Jess had to admit, she… enjoyed helping him out. It was good to have a new purpose since her life was consumed with the hunt for the bastard that murdered her parents. She figured she would become a part of the fight to retake Hope County. No way would she let more families be torn apart by those cult fucks.

Jess finished her dinner and flopped down on her bedroll. As she lay there staring up at the stars, Jess hoped Morgan would call her up again. It was nice to be actually pointed in a direction to kill shit.

Regarding Morgan, Jess would have to spend more time with him to get a feel for who he was and what he was like. He seemed nice enough, but Jess had come to know that she should not be taking that to mean anything. She had known lots of guys. Pretty much all of them were scumbags, assholes, perverts, or just generally trying to get into her pants. She didn't have time for that.

But, Morgan pointed her to people that needed killing and that was good enough for her.

Jess figured she would have time to figure him out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay- school, work, and life got in the way.
> 
> But, I am certainly not done telling Far Cry stories and I am still gonna be writing. I'll try to go forward with less delays from now on.
> 
> The next thing I will post will be a completely new story- so be ready for that!
> 
> I also want to thank Ragnarok666 on Fanfiction.net for giving me ideas for this chapter and the next and for generally helping me getting me back in the step of things.

Grace Armstrong was lying on her stomach, peering down the pair of binoculars at the scene before her, or at least a scene that was a good hundred or so feet away.

The cult had parked a few box trucks up near a ranch house, where a good dozen and change cultists were busy picking the house clean of anything they could use. Grace had been attracted to the scene by the sound of gunshots. She had arrived just in time to see a cultists prying a G3 rifle from the cold, dead hands of the homeowner.

Grace could have taken up a position and started blasting away, as she typically liked to do in this situation, but there was too much heat for her liking. This job would require more than one person. So, she asked for some help.

She placed down her binoculars and scooped up her custom AR-10 rifle that she had lovingly laid at her side. Raising her torso up slightly, Grace put her eye to the scope and watched a trio of cultists carrying a trunk full of books that were swiftly tossed into a growing bonfire.

Grace glanced down at her wristwatch.

_The hell are you people?_  She thought.

Right on cue, two sets of footsteps kicked through the tall tangle of weeds and grass behind her.

On instinct, Grace rolled over onto her back, sitting up and bringing her rifle to her shoulder.

The two figures stopped. One of them, a woman, looked ready to fight. Her companion held up a hand.

"Jess, settle down, this is Grace."

Jess Black looked at Grace and back to Deputy Morgan Rook.

Grace sat up, relaxing as she did so. She gave a single nod to the deputy and his friend. Morgan said over the radio he would be bringing a "little help," but did not elaborate.

"Rook," Grace greeted.

He smiled at her.

"Hey, Grace. Hope you're alright."

"I'm good as we can be, I guess."

"Uh, this is Jess Black," Morgan said, waving an arm at the scarred, heavily frowning young woman at his side.

"Hey. Grace Armstrong," Grace said, extending a hand.

Jess looked at her hand and up at her.

"Yeah, hi, whatever," she mumbled back before walking past Grace, holding her bow at her side.

Grace shot a look at Jess's back as she stalked past. She looked up at Morgan, who gave a small smile and shrug in reply.

_This should be interesting_.

Grace had known that deputy for a very short time. A few months ago, she heard that the county got a new officer, but never bothered to meet him. She felt that there was no reason to do so. That all changed when Rook stumbled upon her picking off Eden's Gate followers trying to desecrate the graves of Hope County's veterans.

There was not much not time for introductions as the two of them ducked rifle fire while trying their best to return in kind. But, Grace had seen that Morgan was more than capable and handled his AR-15 better than most guys she knew in the Army handled their M16s.

There was also some buzz about this guy- how people back in Fall's End were saying he was leading the charge against Eden's Gate. Grace's home was gone and she had nowhere else to go, so she told Deputy Rook to count on her if he needed help.

She was glad they met- he was a great shot (despite her jokes to the contrary) and someone she could count on. In a war, she knew that having someone who you knew would be there to watch your back was the difference between living and dying.

Morgan was actually great company too. He was funny, in his own way, and a great conversationalist. He was pretty cute too. But, he was a bit too young for her.

"Alright, so what's the deal?" Morgan inquired as the three of them sat on the gentle hill overlooking the looting cultists.

"I've stumbled upon these assholes looting some guy's place and gathering up everything they can get. They're putting all the shit into their Reaping trucks. Which have a  _lot_  of pretty useful stuff in them."

Jess snorted.

"Why are we wasting time on this? Shouldn't we be hitting their bases and shit? You know, hitting those fuckers where it hurts?"

Grace shot her a look.

"I ain't seen this many of their supply trucks in one place. We capture them intact, I'm sure the resistance forces across the Valley can make good use of whatever they have locked away in there."

Grace spoke slowly and clearly, like she was attempting to explain something to a child. Jess obviously did not appreciate this.

"Yeah, well that's cool, but I don't see the point in trying to take back a bunch of old shit they stole-"

"Jess, she's right. We'll take anything we can get," Morgan interrupted.

She looked at him, apparently unsure.

"Just trust me. I wouldn't waste your time. Besides, you get to kill people. You like that."

Jess smirked briefly.

"Okay, sure."

"Alright. Great. Grace, what's the plan?" Morgan inquired.

"So. They don't know how many of us there are. We got the element of surprise. Tell you what- why don't you two get down there and hide out by that little bit of trees and I'll start shooting. These guys don't really have much in the way of tactical thinking and will probably just try running straight at me. When they're out in the open… you open up."

Morgan smiled and gave a quick nod.

"I like it."

"Jess, what kind of guns you got?"

"Guns? I don't do guns," Jess said as if it was obvious.

"What do you mean you 'don't do guns?' What do you kill Peggies with?"

Jess briefly raised up her bow and shook it.

"This."

"Grace, trust me on this one. This woman can handle a bow and arrow like nothing you've ever seen," Morgan said.

Grace looked at the angry young woman, whose eyes were filled with what she quickly identified as bloodlust.

Grace trusted Morgan, but a sinking feeling in her stomach told her this would not work.

But, she trusted Morgan.

"Well, if you say so. Let's get into position."

* * *

Andrew had been a member of Eden's Gate ever since they showed up in Denver back in 2012. At that time, his school had kicked him out for threatening to kill his roommate and his parents cut off contact due to Andrew's refusal to seek help with his heroin habit.

He had been eeking out an existence, holding up stores and shoplifting. That was before he met the Father. Before he found a purpose higher than himself.

Now, he was a soldier of the Father, spreading his righteous retribution far and wide.

Andrew strolled out of the sinner's home, holding a box full of canned goods with a PlayStation 4 console resting atop it. He placed the food inside one of the trucks before tossing the video game console into a pile of burning trash and frivolous objects.

"How we doing here?" one of his brothers called from the back of another Reaping truck.

"I think we're good. Maybe we should ask if we can wrap it-"

Andrew did not feel a thing as a 7.62mm rifle round punched through the side of his skull before slamming out the other side of his head, disintegrating the right side of his face in the process. He was dead before he even hit the ground. Around him, the other Eden's Gate men jumped up and ran for cover.

* * *

Grace watched the long-haired cultist crumple to the ground, most of his face blown off. She flicked her scope to the next target and gently exhaled while depressing the trigger. Her next shot slammed into the chest of a cultist still shocked at his comrade's demise.

A third bullet caught a cultist in the face as he scrambled for cover. Normally, she would want to relocate at this point, but the whole idea was to get the Peggies gunning for her.

They were starting to return fire, but they were too far away for their handguns to have any sort of effect while they were not exactly marksmen when it came to their rifles.

Grace dropped two more cultists before she saw one man waving his arm forward and shouting at his comrades. They were being urged on to charge at her. Normally, a trained warfighter would not charge head-on at a sniper in a fortified position on the high ground. But, the Peggies were far from trained.

They came at her, faster than she would be able to take down in any other situation. But, this time, she had a plan in mind.

"Morgan, you ready?" Grace said into her radio.

" _Just a minute_ …"

Grace glanced down and saw Morgan rise from behind a tree, followed closely by Jess.

* * *

The huntress and the deputy rose from their hiding spots, weapons already firing. The cultists began to skid to a stop and a few were able to raise their guns, but it was already too late. Morgan opened up with his AR-15, cutting down three men almost immediately. Jess, despite her much slower weapon, was more than able to keep up. Her arrows found their ways into her victims like they had a mind of their own.

One man, holding a bloody wound on his abdomen, lifted up a pistol and aimed it at Morgan, who was too busy finishing off a downed cultist to notice. Jess did, however, and responded by letting an arrow sail through his throat.

Morgan looked at her and at the man falling to his knees and dropping his pistol.

"Thanks!" he called while sighting up a new target.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Jess mumbled.

The cultists attack was shattered. Every one of them was lying dead in the grass, except for one, who had turned tail and was trying to get as far away as possible.

"Should we let him go?" Morgan asked as he ported his smoking rifle.

"Fuck, no," Jess spat.

Before Morgan could respond, Jess nocked an arrow and raised her bow, aiming slightly above the fleeing cultist to compensate for gravity. She let the arrow go and they watched as it impacted an indeterminate spot on his back. The cultist stumbled, but got up and began to limp away.

"Dammit," Jess muttered, retrieving a fresh arrow.

A single gunshot broke the relative silence. Morgan and Jess saw a puff of blood emanate from his head before he finally fell.

"Well, then," Morgan said.

Jess looked over at Grace's position and gave her an angrier-than-usual look.

* * *

"Well, that was fun," Morgan said as he, Jess, and Grace strolled away from their skirmish.

"Yep. And still in one piece," Grace replied.

"I wish I got to kill more people," Jess angrily mumbled.

Morgan and Grace both looked at her.

"What?" she snapped.

Morgan chuckled.

"I'm sure you'll have other opportunities," he said.

Jess shrugged.

"I'm sure. But I like to take every chance I can get."

Grace eyed up Jess one last time. This girl… where the hell did Morgan find her?

But, he was right. She was indeed a master with that bow. Grace was glad this Jess kid was on their side.

"Well, guys, thanks for your help. Morgan, let me know if you need anything. Jess… uh, nice meeting you," Grace said as they walked up to the Jeep Morgan and Jess had commandeered.

"No problem, Grace. Happy to help. I'll give Mary a call and she can send some folks to go pick up these trucks."

They said their final goodbyes and went their separate ways. Morgan turned over the engine of the borrowed Jeep. Jess had been quiet the past few minutes.

"So, what did you think?" he asked as they drove off.

"About what?"

"About the thing we just did… remember?" he teased.

Jess shrugged.

"Fine, I guess. Still wish we hit them somewhere where it would really hurt."

"Like I said, anything we can do will help the militia across the county. And it's not always in the form of these spectacular raids and shootouts or whatever. Don't worry. We have a long way ahead of us and there will be plenty of time for violence."

Jess smirked. Morgan had never seen her smile or even show any emotion outward other than being perpetually pissed off. Her slight smirks were the only way she expressed an emotion that was not anger.

"I can tell by that beaming smile that you are ready for the violence to escalate," Morgan said to her.

She did something unexpected.

Jess laughed.

Morgan looked at her oddly for a moment. She grinned at him.

"What?"

She had given him a full smile. Well, a grin at least.

"Oh, nothing. I didn't realize you were capable of displaying such a wide array of emotions. I thought your moods were limited to 'kill' and 'angry.'"

Jess laughed again, covering her mouth as she did so.

"You're very right in thinking those are my primary moods. Guess you just know me so fuckin' well."

Morgan smiled back.

"Yep, I've got you mostly figured out, I think. You are capable of acting like a human being, so that's good."

Jess lightly slapped his shoulder.

"You know, most people who made jokes like that- I'd fuck up. But, I've come to the conclusion I like you enough."

"Oh? Like me enough? I'm glad."

"Okay, well, maybe I  _tolerate_  you enough."

Morgan chuckled.

"That's better."

They both looked at each other, taking a moment to catch each other's eyes for the briefest of moments. Morgan observed how the light seemed to catch her brilliant teal eyes, reflecting off of her irises.

_Damn, she really does have pretty eyes_.

Jess broke his gaze and looked back to the road.

"Hey, eyes on the fuckin' road. I ain't dying in no car crash."

Morgan did what he was told, but spared a brief glance out of the corner of his eye.

The last of Jess's first real smile to him had faded. Her face wore its natural scowl now. She had allowed that little moment to happen, but now it was back to business as usual.

* * *

"Keep up," Jess called from her position far ahead of Morgan.

Morgan hauled himself up over a low ridge, grabbing onto a sapling to help him do so.

"Slow… down…" he huffed after her.

"I'll dump your ass for the wolves, man. Stay with me!" Jess said.

Morgan smiled and shook his head before jogging up the forested trail towards her.

It was early in the evening and this would be the third consecutive day they had spent together. For the past week, Morgan had been calling on Jess every single day. Sometimes just the two of them, sometimes with other members of the Resistance.

Morgan had found Jess to be an invaluable ally, to say the least. She was very, very good at what she did. That was evident from the start, but now, Morgan could see she was born to use a bow and arrow.

In the woods, away from anything resembling civilization, Jess was in her prime. She thrived on stalking through the trees and just seemed to float unhindered over the terrain. Morgan could barely keep up with her when they traversed the forest. It seemed like he would be sprinting through the woods, while she just idly walked- and Morgan would  _still_  be unable to keep up.

Morgan slowed from the jog he had adapted to reach Jess, who was leaning against a large tree and looking quite impatient.

"Took you long enough," she grumbled.

Morgan, crossed his arms and took a deep breath.

"Well, excuse me, I'm not exactly Mister Expert Mountain Man Survivalist here."

She smirked.

"Whatever. You'll figure it out. Alright, I know a spot we can rest up. I think we've done enough for one day."

"Wow, you're actually satisfied with the amount of killing you did today? That's a surprise."

"I guess I am. We did some good. Killed some fuckers trying to kidnap some teenagers. Blew up a few of their goddamn Bliss silos. Helped wreck a supply convoy. Yeah, I'd say that we did our good deeds for today."

Morgan nodded in approval.

"I'd say so. Let's get some food in us and rest up."

Jess pushed off the tree and jerked her towards the trail.

"Follow me and try to keep the fuck up."

A few minutes of walking later, Jess stopped in front of a small cave. The entrance was hidden behind a grove of bushes and revealed a cave with a low roof, just tall enough to crouch down into.

Jess had an encyclopedic knowledge on all manner of hidden, off-the-beaten path places throughout Hope County. They had spent their last three days together away from Fall's End, spending the night in a variety of interesting places. Just last night, Jess had them bunk in an abandoned fire lookout tower that Morgan was convinced would collapse at some point in the night.

"How'd you find this place?" Morgan asked her as they kicked away stray leaves and other debris.

"Eh, stumbled upon it years ago while hunting. Used to come up here to smoke weed with my friends. Back when I was a dumbass."

He chuckled.

"At least a few good things came out of you getting wasted with your friends."

With the entrance clear, they det down their gear and laid out their respective sleeping pads and sleeping bags.

Morgan sat down and sighed deeply, glad to have shed his gear. He unslung his AR-15 from off his back and gently placed it at his side. That was followed by him removing his plate carrier and stretching his limbs.

He pulled off his left boot and the wool socks underneath it. He rubbed his aching foot and gently touched the angry red skin on the side of his foot.

Jess turned to him.

"Blister?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied with a nod.

She tossed him her backpack.

"I got some moleskin in the first aid kit. Fix yourself up."

"Thanks."

"I'm gonna make a fire," Jess announced as she got up from her spot and began to collect wood.

"Do you need any help?"

She shook her head while throwing kindling into a pile."

"Nah. You'll just in my way."

Morgan chuckled.

"Whatever you say, ma'am."

"You can make yourself useful and prepare us some food to heat up over the fire."

"Oh, I wanna be useful," he said before beginning to rummage through her backpack for the cuts of venison she had attained earlier.

They were silent for some time as they went about their respective tasks. Morgan glanced up at her. She was squatting down an working on something, her worn jacket removed for the first time all day. She practically lived in that thing.

Jess almost absentmindedly reached up to toss her hair behind her shoulders. Her hair was long, colored similar to chocolate or a nice warm cup of coffee. Despite spending much of her time running around in the woods, Jess's hair continued to look shiny and clean. His eyes went lower, where he saw how those tight gray jeans she wore clung to her skin. She was somewhat short, shorter than him for sure, but he was convinced she was mostly legs. That suited him just fine. He imagined Jess was fit as hell and toned from years of running, hiking, fighting, and killing.

He almost laughed aloud.

_You're fighting against an army of maniac cultists. You've been hanging out with a murderous girl who gets off on shooting arrows into people's faces. And you're checking her out_.

Jess stepped up and took a step back, revealing a steadily growing campfire before her.

"And there we have it. I'm pretty good at this, I gotta say."

She looked over her shoulder at him.

"What?" she inquired.

"Oh, nothing."

She gave him a look.

"Whatever you say."

Morgan got up and handed Jess a slice of venison, which she slapped next to his on top of their tiny grill. He took a seat next to her, a large bag of chips in his hands.

"Well damn, where'd you get this?" Jess asked as he opened the bag.

"Found it in the back of that cult supply truck we raided in the morning. I know you like to pack light, but I think this was worth it."

"Fuck yeah, man," Jess agreed as she shoved a handful of chips into her mouth.

They sat in silence for a time, listening to the sound of their dinner cooking while they filled up on snacks.

"So, uh, I gotta ask," Jess spoke up, "are you from around here?"

Morgan looked at her. This was the first time she had asked him a personal question or invited to talk more about himself.

"Oh, no, I wasn't born here if that's what you're asking."

She nodded.

"Yeah, I figured. You don't seem too familiar with this place."

"That I'm not. I've only been here for a few months before this shit kicked off."

"Where were you before all this?"

"Around. Billings, mostly. My dad helped me get a job here."

"Billings, huh? Big city."

He laughed at the idea that Jess considered Billings a major metropolitan area.

"Yeah, I guess. Compared to here, anyway. I worked a lot of different jobs to make ends meet, but I knew I wanted to be a cop. I got my wish and… well, let's just say I couldn't have picked a better time."

She shrugged.

"Or, maybe this is the best time. If you want to think of it that way. From what I've heard, you're really leading the charge here. A lot of people look up to you."

"I really wish they wouldn't," Morgan said with a sigh.

She sat up, resting her hands on her knees.

"And why the fuck not?"

"I guess I just never considered myself someone to follow. It's not like I have any credentials or anything- I worked in a goddamn warehouse before this."

"Maybe it's not about titles or degrees or whatever the fuck people get to be all legitimate and shit. Some people just have this natural ability to get people to do shit."

"And you think I do?"

She gave a little shrug.

"Seems the people back in Fall's End seem to think so."

"You know Mary May, right?"

She nodded.

"Oh, yeah. Kinda. She owns the bar, so it's hard not to know her. We went to school together, but I didn't talk to her really. She was too pretty and nice for me."

"Well, she's the kind of person I think should be running things. She's got that knack for organizing and inspiring people you were talking about."

"Sure. She's good at talking and keeping people's spirits up. There's nothing wrong with that, but it's different than what you do. You're out in the shit, taking the fight to the fucking cult. Hitting them where it hurts. You inspire people."

"I really don't think I'm doing anything special."

"No? Oh, really. Because everyone is out here doing all sorts of ninja-commando shit, blowing up cult fuel tankers, killing their leaders, rescuing people, all that. Nope. Nothing special at all."

Morgan laughed and shook his head.

"You think so highly of me."

"Don't get used to it. I think our food is ready, by the way."

She crouched-walked towards the grill, where she removed two cooked pieces of venison and placed them on mess kit plates. She served one to Morgan and took a seat back down next to him.

"Hope it's not too cooked for you," she said, withdrawing a folding knife to use as a cutting and eating utensil.

Morgan screwed his face in mock disgust.

"Oh, I asked for medium-rare. This is well-done. I'm gonna need to speak to your manager. Now please, otherwise you're not getting a tip."

Jess covered her mouth with one hand in an attempt to stifle her laugh.

"You're such an asshole!" she said between chuckles she tried to suppress.

"Yes, but I'm the asshole leading the Hope County Resistance. So, you're stuck with me until we blow Joseph's head off."

Jess turned to him, finishing her last laugh giggles.

"I guess that's the way it's gotta be."

They met each other's eyes again and Morgan could not help but smile.

Jess was… pretty. Was that the right word? She certainly was not "hot" or whatever. Not even what many would consider conventionally attractive in the slightest. But, Morgan had begun to notice there was just something alluring about her. Maybe it was the eyes. Her eyes were super pretty. Maybe it was her face- she was very attractive under the scars etched on her face. Hell, maybe the scars were  _part_  of it.

Either way, Morgan was starting to think the crazy woman who enjoying killing things just a bit too much was someone he would like to get to know a little better. And someone he would want to keep around for purposes other than when he needed arrows to be sent into the faces of bad people.

He abruptly stopped these thoughts.

_You're in the middle of a fucking war and all kinds of people are looking to kill you. It this really what you should be thinking about right now? Of all things?_

"Yo, Morgan, you alive over there?" Jess asked.

"Huh?" he blinked.

"You were, like, staring at me and you totally blanked out. Everything good?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Fine."

He nodded and turned back to his food, which he had suddenly become very interested in.

"No problems here at all. Nope. Everything is just  _dandy_."

Jess smirked.

"'Dandy?' Well, whatever you say. Just finished your food. We'll need the energy for tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Deputy, we need your help here_.”

Morgan and Jess were in the middle of breakfast when Mary called. That morning, Morgan learned that Jess liked to leave caches of supplies scattered around the county. She had woke up early to retrieve some preserved pork and powdered eggs.

They were sitting around the campfire, eating their bacon and slightly tasteless eggs when Morgan’s radio started going off.

He picked up his radio and raised it to his mouth while Jess chewed on a mouthful of bacon with anticipation.

“Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?”

“I _’m fine… I just got word one of our roadblocks got destroyed. It was the Peggies- they got a fucking tank!_ ”

Morgan stood up, surprised.

“Say again?” he asked.

“ _The cult has monster called the Revelator. John’s getting pretty pissed off at us, so he’s pulling out all sorts of shit. You gotta stop that thing before it gets to Fall’s End._ ”

“Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll get it done.”

Morgan picked up his things and turned to Jess.

“Come on, I’d love to finish breakfast, but we need to get a move on.”

Jess scoffed.

“The cult’s got a fucking tank? I’m sorry, do you have a plan here? You got a tank in your back pocket we can use?”

Morgan hauled his bag into its place.

“I’ll make something up.”

Jess kicked dirt over the fire.

“You’re filling me with confidence, dude.”

* * *

 Morgan was behind the wheel of the borrowed Ford Mustang, Jess riding shotgun. The two fighters were gaining on the homemade armored truck the Peggies had deployed. She shot him a look.

“I’m not sure I’m a hundred percent on this.”

“Don’t worry,” Morgan attempted to assure her.

Jess rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m gonna fucking worry! Not only did you agree to take on a homemade tank with nothing but your dick and a second hand car, you ain’t even planning to blow it up!”

“Look, I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I don’t have much that can put a dent in that thing. What do you expect me to do? Throw a bunch of C4 at it until it suddenly decides to explode? I don’t think it works like that. Besides, I was thinking we could use it. You know, repurpose it as a tank for our own uses.”

“Right. If you kill yourself tryin’ to do this, I ain’t helping you,” Jess mumbled.

“You’re in the car with me, so I don’t think you have a whole lot of choice in the matter.”

“I-” she started. Jess frowned. Why _did_ she join Morgan on this adventure anyway? She briefly wondered if it was because something told her not to leave him on his own. Or maybe she did not want to.

“Hang on!” Morgan called, slamming down the gas pedal and pinning Jess to her seat.

“I’m gonna fucking die!” she shouted.

“Not today, if I can help it!”

Morgan pulled their car up to the side of the ungainly, but heavily armored behemoth. It started out as a big rig, but layers of improvised armored plating and the plow welded onto the hood reminded Morgan of an old steam locomotive.

A few Eden’s Gate fighters were stationed on the top of the vehicle. They spotted the blue Mustang that was furiously beeping at them.

“Hey, shitheads!” Morgan yelled.

One Peggies grabbed the sleeve of his comrade and gestured at Morgan.

“It’s him! It’s the deputy!” one of them said.

“Yeah, it’s me! Come and fucking get me!”

Downshifting, Morgan pressed his foot on the gas and pulled ahead of the Revelator. Immediately, the massive war machine honked its horn and sped up to catch him.

Jess stared at Morgan, her eyes wide. He was focused on the road and did not notice her.

“Okay, you got them to chase you. Now what?”

“We stick to the plan.”

Jess laughed at the absurdity of her situation.

“Oh, great.”

They were interrupted by assault rifle fire coming from the cultists stationed atop the machine. Morgan ducked as a rifle round shattered the rear window and sent glass shards flying in his direction.

Another rifle round whizzed between the two seats, causing both passenger and driver to jump.  

“You okay there?” Morgan shouted to her over the sounds of gunfire.

“Oh, I’m just fuckin’ peachy!”

Morgan jerked the steering wheel to the right, making a sharp turn down a path nearing the Henbane River. At the same time, Morgan picked up his radio and spoke into it.

“Nick, you see me?”

“ _Yeah, brother, I see you! Tell me when!_ ”

Jess peered out the window. She became aware of the sound of a prop driven aircraft above them. Nick Rye’s bright yellow ad-hoc attack aircraft was circling above.

“Oh, he showed up,” Jess commented.

“Of course he did.”

“He’s not gonna blow us up, right?”

“No, he’s not gonna blow us up, Jess,” Morgan said sarcastically.

“I’m holding you to that.”

Morgan put the pedal to the metal and the Mustang shot across the steel bridge with the Revelator close behind. As soon as they cleared the bridge, Morgan put his radio back up to his face.

“Do it!”

They both heard the whistling of a bomb above their heads. It was not aimed at them, nor was it aimed at the Revelator. It impacted the bridge roadway, buckling the steel structure. The massive Peggie war machine was far too sluggish to stop. The driver tried to steer around the damaged section, succeeding in causing the Revelator to become off-balance as it struggled to avoid the blown-out bridge section. The Revelator tipped and landed on the damaged bridge road. A second later, the bridge collapsed and sent the truck down into the shallow creek below.

Morgan bought the car to a stop and his passenger stared at the dust and smoke being thrown up.

“Holy shit,” Morgan whispered.

“Holy shit indeed. I can’t believe that plan didn’t fucking kill us.”

“ _You okay, deputy?_ ” Nick inquired over the radio.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Thanks a lot, bud. We got it from here.”

Morgan opened his door and gestured for Jess to follow.

“Come on. Let’s check this thing out.”

Jess followed the deputy to the edge where they observed the remains of the cult’s short-lived tank. It was resting on its side and looked very damaged. Both of them could still hear the souped-up engine still running.

“It looks… pretty fucked up. You think we can still use that thing?”

Morgan shrugged.

“Worth a try. Get some guys with bulldozers out here, maybe a crane, we can right it and see if it runs.”

Jess was hesitant to agree.

“Come on,” Morgan began as he slid down the bank, “let’s check it out.”

Jess followed him, observing the remains of several Peggies thrown from the Revelator. They were all dead or unconscious. One guy had his skull split open from the impact of being thrown onto a rock. Another one was crushed under the trailer of the homemade tank.

Morgan climbed up the cab, where one of the armored doors was ajar from the impact.

“Help me here?” he asked Jess.

“Yeah, hold on.”

They both gripped the sides of the door.

“One… two… three!” they counted in unison.

With a few grunts of efforts, they wrenched open the driver’s side door. The driver himself was slumped over and held in his place by the seat belt, presumably dead or unconscious, wounded, and soon to be dead. Morgan smiled in satisfaction. It was not everyday that a plan drawn straight from a Michael Bay movie worked out without a hitch, relatively speaking.

Morgan reached over to cut the engine. As he did so, the Peggie driver shot up and grabbed Morgan’s hand.

Shocked, Morgan stared at the cultist, who was grinning up at him.

“Nice try, boy,” he said with a smug grin. The man held up a small object in his hand. Morgan’s eyes darted over to it. He was holding the detonator to a bundle of plastic explosives.

“Oh, fuck!” Morgan cried, wrenching his hand out of his grip. Jess was standing a few feet away, reading a few of the cult slogans sprayed on the side of the trailer.

He sprinted to her as she turned around.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Morgan dove and wrapped his arms around her waist. Jess had no time to react, let alone let out a “what the fuck?”

He tackled her forward just as the cab exploded. It was quickly followed by a series of explosions that ran the length of the Revelator.

The deputy and his companion landed roughly on the ground. Morgan was shielding her and felt small bits of debris pelt his back. A jagged shard of metal went spinning through the air and impaled the ground a few inches from Morgan’s face. He looked over at the metal shard, which was vibrating from its impact with the dirt.

He then looked back at Jess, who was staring up at him. Their eyes met for a moment. Morgan could see those gorgeous blue eyes flicker with something that looked like fear- and something else… surprise?

He suddenly became acutely aware that he was pressed atop her.

“Oh, uh…” Morgan muttered quickly as he scrambled to his feet. He tried to casually look away at the burning wreck while dusting himself off.

Jess stood up slowly. She was a bit sore… but uninjured.

_Did he just do that?_

“I… I guess we’re not using that thing now,” Morgan commented.

He turned back to her.

“Are you okay?”

Jess nodded once.

“Yeah, I’m fine… thanks.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem. That’s what I’m here for.”

Jess stepped forward and stood next to him.

“That was… amazing.”

“What?”

“The whole… running up to me and tackling me like you’re a star linebacker before than fuckin’ thing went up.”

Morgan grinned meekly.

“Oh, it was nothing.”

Jess gave a low laugh.

“You seem to think everything you do is _nothing_. It’s not.”

“I-”

“Shut up for a second. You saved my life.”

“You’ve saved mine plenty of times already.”

Jess vigorously shook her head.

“Nah, that was just you and me just doing what’s natural in a fight. You went out of your way to make sure I didn’t get burnt to a crisp.”

Morgan shrugged.

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

“No,” Jess said adamantly, “it’s not. Trust me.”

She tentatively reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you. Again.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Obviously you’re not living this one down. You’re welcome, I guess.”

They both smiled at one another. Morgan turned on his heels jerked his head back towards the road.

“Let’s head back. I think we’re done here.”

* * *

 Back in Fall’s End, Morgan and Jess walked down the empty street towards the Spread Eagle. They were talking more about the events of earlier. Morgan had already told Mary what had happened, and of course, people were already congratulating him.

 _Just another day at the office_ , he thought.

At the open door to the Spread Eagle, Morgan stopped and turned to his companion.

“So, uh, I guess you can get going if you want.”

Jess did something he did not expect. She did not immediately take off to go do whatever it was she needed to do.

Instead, she stood there, shifting on her feet slightly.

“Uh, you sure you don’t need me?”

“Not right now, I don’t think. I’m just gonna have some dinner and a beer. Unless you want to join us at the bar. I know how you feel about this town.”

“Oh, okay. I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, no problem, Jess. Thanks for your help again.”

Jess smiled softly.

“Thanks for saving my ass again.”

“It’s an ass I want to save.”

Morgan’s eyes widened, apparently having let his mouth open before his brain processed what to say..

“I- uh- wait…”

Jess laughed and waved him off.

“I get you, don’t worry.”

Morgan smiled awkwardly, trying his best to keep the redness in his face under control.

“Goodnight then, I guess.”

“Yeah, later. Are you gonna let me know if you need me tomorrow?”

“I probably will. Take it easy, though. I’m sure you have your own things to attend to.”

“Hm, probably.”

“Okay. Later!”

“Later, Morgan.”

Morgan disappeared into the bar. Jess turned to exit the town, but lingered for a little bit to watch Morgan in the bar. Looking through the window, she saw Mary shoot up from the barstool and jog over to him. The two exchanged a few words, with Mary presumably being very excited about the stunt Morgan pulled earlier against the Revelator.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around him. Jess looked at Morgan’s reaction and saw he looked somewhat surprised. After a moment, Morgan awkwardly hugged her back.

Jess felt something in her chest- a hot, angry feeling. But, she was quite unsure why she was feeling this way. She was just hugging him. However, Jess could not help but call Mary some very rude names in her head.

 _Why are you even mad?_ She thought to herself.

_Just let him hug her. She’s hot. He’s hot. It’s natural._

_Hold up, Jessica, did you just say he was “hot?”_

“Oh, fuck this,” Jess mumbled as she began to walk away.

 _I gotta get back to the Wolf’s Den. See what Eli’s got for me_ , she told herself.

 _Yeah, that’s the reason why you wanna get away so quickly,_ the voice in the back of her head mocked.

Jess frowned and shifted her quiver before disappearing down the road.   


	5. Chapter 5

The night was moonless. The streetlights of Fall’s End did their best to light Main Street, but it was hardly enough. When night came to Hope County, it came like the hand of some ancient god slamming its huge hand over the landscape. Darkness ruled and the lack of any major settlements meant it stayed that was until the sun peeked over the horizon to signal a new day.

On a clear night, late night wanderers would be awarded with an endless field of stars above them. The lack of light pollution meant that the stars came out in force and one could even make out the hazy band of the Milky Way Galaxy snaking its way across the sky.

Tonight was not one of those night, though.

It was just the night three men, clad in gray and black, had been hoping for. They crept towards the town, past the lonely sentries who could not see more a few dozen feet in front of them without the aid of a light.

They carried firearms, but those were only supposed to be used if the going got tough. They each had a knife, an axe, some sort of blade for silent takedowns. The small team had one destination in mind, and one target in mind.

The three men leapt as gracefully as they could over a low fence on their approach to the Spread Eagle. If one was to shine a light on these infiltrators, one would immediately notice a patch sewn onto the left shoulder of their jackets, a patch that proudly displayed the cross of Eden’s Gate.

The Eden’s Gate men stopped by the side of the town bar. Around the corner was the front door. It looked undefended. Maybe it was even unlocked. In low whispers and rudimentary hand signals, they debated what to do next.

In doing so, they did not notice a fourth figure had come out of the darkness, like it belonged in the shadows or was a shadow itself.

The new figure glided over to their position, the Eden’s Gate fighters unaware of who was joining them.

Silently, the figure sat there for a few very long seconds. It was amusing how oblivious they were.  

“Hey, assholes,” the figure finally spoke.

The Eden’s Gate men shot up in surprise. They were not ready for this turn of events.

The dark figure had a knife in its left hand.

* * *

“Something tells me you ain’t supposed to be here right now,” Jess Black said to the cultist intruders. The cultist in front of her was the first to react, but certainly not fast enough.

He raised his own combat knife in an effort to show resistance. It was just a token effort, as Jess was able to stab her knife into his throat with only a hint of effort.

Her knife stabbed out the back of his neck. The cultist gurgled, spat up blood, and dropped as Jess withdrew her knife.

“Holy shit!” the next man shouted as he frantically swung his compact hatchet at her head.

Quick as a panther lunging for its kill, Jess dodged under his swing and planted her boot to the side of his knee. Crying out in pain, he dropped onto one knee.

His friend, trying to get a good angle on Jess, finally attempted to stab with his own knife. Jess parried and kicked the second man in the chest, sending him tumbling against the side wall of the Spread Eagle, smacking his head in the process.

Jess shot forward, catching the knife arm of her opponent. Before he could react, she twisted, getting behind his back and wrenching his captured arm over his shoulder. Shouting and trying his best to break free, Jess stifled his efforts by stabbing him through the back, right through his heart. The cultist cried and fell, hands going to the wound in his back before finally stumbling onto his face.

The last cultist shambled back to his feet, hatchet held loosely in his right hand.

“You animal!” he spat at Jess.

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, almost bored.

“Come at me and let me kill you already,” she added, turning her knife over in her hand.

The Peggie roared and charged, barely able to stay on his feet.

Jess blocked his right arm with her own, pushing the hatchet away from her face. She slashed her knife across his stomach. Blood poured out of the wound and stained the grass under him, looking pitch black in the overcast night.

The cultist shouted, surprised she had wounded him.

Jess grabbed him by the throat with her free hand and roughly tossed him back against the wall. He slammed back and stayed there for a moment, stunned. Jess used this moment to step forward. In a single fluid motion, she held him in place with one hand and drew her knife across his throat, splitting it open like a sack of grain. Blood poured down his jacket and he stared at her.

Jess stared back, her heart beating hard. She smiled.

“Thanks for the fight, dickhead,” she mumbled.

Jess released the cultist. He slumped down, twitched, and was still.

The whole fight barely lasted a minute. But, the cries and sounds of fighting has woken Mary in the Spread Eagle.

She came shooting out of the front door, AR-15 in one hand and her walkie-talkie in another. She was shouting for help from other militia forces. Mary had obviously been sound asleep just a few minutes ago. Her hair was a mess and she had run out in a pair of baggy pajama pants paired with an old, faded t-shirt and bare feet.

“Hey,” Jess greeted, wiping blood off her knife.

“Jess?” Mary asked.

“That’s me.”

“What… what happened?”

Jess nodded at the dead cultists before her.

“I saw these guys sneaking into town while I was going for a stroll out of camp. Normally, I’d just take them the fuck out, but for one reason or another, I felt like somethin’ was off and that I should go check out what they were up to so late. Or early. Whatever. You know what the fuck I mean.”

Mary looked at her oddly.

“What?” Jess demanded.

“Uh… nothing.”

“Right.”

Mary shifted.

“Is this… normal for you?”

Jess shrugged.

“I guess.”

“I’d be scared to take three guys on with a gun. You just went and did it with a knife.”

Jess smirked.

“Yeah, well, it’s what I do.”

At that moment, Morgan came tumbling out of the bar. He looked wired and anxious. In one hand was his Hi-Power pistol while the other hand adjusted the hem of the black sweatpants he had obviously just pulled on. And that was all he was wearing.

“Mary, are we good? Is the cult attacking?” he asked.

“Nah, man, we’re good. I think it’s just these three douchebags,” Jess informed him.

Morgan looked at her.

“Oh… uh, hey.”

“Hey.”

“You… took these guys out?”

She groaned.

“Do you people, like, not believe I’m able to do that?”

Mary and Morgan both spoke up at the same time, denying that they doubted her abilities simultaneously.

She folded her arms, amused.

“Yeah, whatever. Anyway. You guys haven’t had any problems with Peggies comin’ in here, right?”

“No. This is the first time they’ve tried to come back into town,” Mary said.

“You think maybe they were trying to take it back? Catch us by surprise?”

Mary shrugged.

“It doesn’t seem like it. Jess said there’s just these three guys.”

Jess knelt down beside the cultist she stabbed through the heart. She grabbed him by the black ski mask he wore and wrenched his head up. Feeling around his neck, Jess produced a small necklace, a red Eden’s Gate cross.

“Check it out,” she said.

“What is it?” Mary asked.

“They give these things to the Chosen. You know, the cult’s elite, or whatever they like to think they are. Joseph’s guys who like to run around playing Navy SEAL or some shit.”

Jess sat up and looked at Morgan.

“I think they were trying to kill you.”

He blinked.

“Me?”

“Yep.”

He looked around, as if there was some other Morgan the cult would want to kill.

“Why would they send their… special assassins or whatever… to take me out? Of all people?”

“I don’t think you need to ask that, Morgan,” Mary replied.

Jess nodded once.

“The cult knows you’re leading the charge. We’ve almost taken back the Valley. John’s getting desperate and Joseph’s probably expecting results. So, as they say… desperate times,” Jess said.

Morgan sighed.

“I’m not doing anything special-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up with that!” Jess snapped.

“What?”

“Come on, Morgan. Everyone knows you’re our top guy. And the Peggie’s most wanted.”

“I’m just doing what everyone else is,” he started.

“That’s bullshit. We both know that, dude. If you weren’t here, we’d be fighting a losing battle against the cult and not knowing where the hell to even _begin_.”

Jess looked at her boots briefly and back up to him. In the low light, Morgan’s eyes flickered as he met hers.

“And I’d still be sitting in a cage, listening to some cultists preach the Word of Joseph to me.”

He smiled. If it was not so dark out, Jess would have seen color rush into his cheeks.

“Well, thanks,” he managed.

Mary cleared her throat.

“I’m glad they didn’t get to you, Morgan.”

Jess watched Mary reach out and squeeze his shoulder. They both looked at each other briefly and grinned.

Jess felt yet another hot, angry feeling in the pit of her stomach. She almost wanted to say something, but she was not even sure of what she would say.

She scowled. There was absolutely no reason to be feeling this. Whatever _this_ was.

Other Fall’s End residents were waking up and dispersing outside of their homes, weapons in hand.    

“Okay,” Mary said, “I’ll have everyone do a round, see if we’re secure, and get some more sentries set up.”

“I guess I’ll join,” Jess said with a nod.

“Me too,” Morgan added.

Jess nodded once more and looked at Morgan’s shirtless form.

 _Goddamn_ , the voice in the back of her head purred, _for the sake of every young, single, heterosexual woman in the county-_ _that man should not be walking around without a shirt_.

“And put a goddamn shirt on, dude. No one wants to see that,” Jess said.

Morgan looked down at his bare torso.

“Oh, uh, sorry. You’re probably right.”

* * *

Morgan crashed through the woods. His pistol heavy in his hand, blood flowing from several wounds, Morgan walked forward with relentless intent. If Jess was here, she would chide him for his lack of stealth and less-than-graceful movement through the forest. But she was not. It was just him and his target.

Enough was enough. Morgan was ending this now.

The hunched, wounded form of John Seed stumbled away from him just a few feet away. Morgan could hear his ragged breathing from where he stood. The Baptist was hurt from a few bullet and shrapnel wounds. Morgan was no doctor, but he knew the man did not have much left for this world.

Morgan was hurt too, but he just needed to stay on his feet…

John coughed and stumbled. He fell onto his back and stared up at Morgan, his breathing shallow and struggling.

Morgan stared at him, eyes narrowed. He imagined that he would have some quip for this situation, but in the moment, nothing came to him. He leveled his pistol at John and realized the slide had locked back empty some time ago.

Wordlessly, Morgan stowed his pistol and approached John. The youngest Seed offered no resistance as Morgan leaned over him and grabbed for the bunker key around his neck.

Morgan tried to pull it off from his neck, but John suddenly latched his hand around Morgan’s wrist, an effort that took all of his remaining strength.

“What if Joseph is right?” John asked, his voice wavering.

Morgan’s eyes remained narrowed in a combination of anger and frustration.

“Did you ever stop to think about that?” John continued.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Morgan replied, his voice sounding to him like it was being spoken by someone some distance behind him.

“Everyone thinks he’s crazy, but he’s not. Look around you… this world is on the brink. You can feel it in your bones. Look at the headlines! Look who’s in charge!”

John laughed mirthlessly, which became a ragged cough.

“Ain’t my problem,” Morgan snapped.

“You want this key because you think you’re saving people, but they’re already safe,” John continued, “we had a _plan_.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t understand. You don’t _believe_. You don’t care!” John yelled as Morgan finally wrenched the key off his neck.

Silently, Morgan stared down at him. He had no more words for the man.

“May God have mercy on your soul,” John said raspily.

Morgan stepped back as the first of Joseph’s heralds took his last breath and collapsed on the dirt.

Morgan stood there for a minute, making sure John was not faking it. After the minute was up, Morgan took off toward the road, ignoring his wounds for the time being. Hudson and many others were waiting for him.        

* * *

The sounds of music, laughter, and celebration emanated from within the Spread Eagle. Morgan had finished wrapping things up at John’s bunker and had just made his way back to Fall’s End. He smiled at the sound of celebration within.

It sounded like victory.

Morgan pushed open the door and was immediately greeted by upbeat music from the jukebox and the murmur of conversation from various people that packed the bar.

“Hey!” Nick Rye greeted, getting the attention of everyone in the area.

Morgan smiled and looked at the floor, embarrassed by the attention directed at him.

Nick quickly approached and handed him an open beer, clinking their bottles together as he did so.

“Goddamn,” Nick exclaimed, “I ain’t ever seen anything like that before!”

“Ah, come on, it was nothing,” Morgan replied.

Pastor Jerome joined them, clapping Morgan on the shoulder.

“I knew we saved you for a reason.”

With a mutual grin, the two men clinked their beers together.

“Hey!” Mary called from the bar.

“You gave us something back we thought we’d never see again- hope.”

She raised her own bottle for a toast.

“Whatever happens next, we’re with you,” Mary finished.

“Glad for it,” Morgan said with a nod.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Hudson came up from behind.

“Hey. That was a hell of a job, Rook.”

Morgan looked back down at the bar.

“Just doing my best.”

She smiled softly.

“The way I see it, you’re the one in charge now. If you ever need anything, you just let me know.”

Morgan sighed deeply.

All these people, looking to him for what to do next!

 _I’m just some guy_.

“Morgan.”

He turned.

Jess was sitting in a corner, hood up, and looking quite out of her element.

“Hey,” he greeted, taking a seat next to her.

Jess smirked.

“I heard you went and killed John without me.”  

He laughed.

“Yeah, sorry about that. It just felt like something I had to do myself.”

“Right. How’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Kill him.”

“Oh, uh, well, I hit him a few times on the ground and he just kinda died on me.”

Jess nodded slowly, looking somewhat disappointed.

“That’s cool, I guess.”

“What did you want me to do? I didn’t really have a whole lot of time to be creative, you know.”

“I would’ve used some more gas.”

Morgan laughed.

“Wow. You’re something.”

“Yeah, I am I guess,” Jess said, leaning back into her chair.

They both watched the people celebrating throughout the bar for a few moments.

“These people are actin’ like we won the fucking war already. We still have that bitch Faith out east… and fucking Jacob, too,” Jess spat.

“Let them have their night, Jess. This is the most ground we’ve covered in weeks.”

“Hmph.”

They were silent once more. Both had a few things on their mind. Jess looked over at Morgan after a minute, who was taking a sip of his beer and staring off into space.

“Hey, um, I just need to say something that’s been on my mind recently.”

“Yeah?”

Jess folded her hands together in her lap.

“Shit… I ain’t so good at this… feelings sharing shit, so uh, here we go. You remember a few days ago, when me and you took out that cult tank?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, hard to forget that.”

“You saved my life when it went up.”

Morgan laughed, surprised she was treating it like a big deal.

“Well, of _course_ I did. What? You think I’m gonna just leave you to get blown up with the truck? No way.”

She shifted slightly.

“I- well, no, I didn’t think you’d just leave me… I can tell, Morgan, I can tell you’re the kinda guy who goes out of his way to make sure people don’t get fucked up.”

He felt his heart leap in his chest. Morgan turned to her.

“Wow, uh, I’m glad you think I’m… pretty great.”

She smirked.

“Don’t get carried away.”

They both fell silent once more. Morgan stared off into space, his beer held with two hands.

“So, what’s next?” Jess asked

“Uh, well, I guess I’m heading up to the Whitetails. I want to try and see if I can get in with the militia up there.”

“Eli’s militia? They’re pretty cool. Mostly… not useless. But Eli’s not someone who just lets in whoever, you know.”

“How do I get in with him then?”

Jess shrugged once more.

“Just gotta cause some more trouble up there, kill some Peggies. He’ll notice.”

He smiled.

“Well, I guess I have my work cut out for me then.”

* * *

A few days later, Morgan decided to head back up the mountains to try to cause some trouble for Jacob and his men.

But, soon enough, he got the attention of Jacob. Eli and his Whitetails were yet to be found. But, things had taken a rather unexpected turn.

Jacob had told Morgan over the radio they would be meeting face-to-face soon enough. Thanks to a tranquilizer filled dart, that had been the case.

Now, Morgan was strapped to a chair, in a dingy, dark, dank room where Jacob Seed stood before him.

Two terrified captives flanked Morgan. Jacob was busy lecturing them about the virtues of strength and how the world was weak. Morgan saw Pratt was in the room with them. His head was down and his eyes filled with a look of a broken man. Pratt had not even looked in Morgan’s direction this entire time.

Jacob finished his speech and calmly walked over to Morgan, his heavy combat boots thumping on the creaky wooden floor of the room.

He picked up a small wooden box set on the table next to Morgan. Jacob turned the wind up key as Morgan looked up.

“We will cull the herd. We will do what needs to be done.”

Morgan found the way Jacob spoke so softly, so calmly, without a hint of anger in his voice to be the most unsettling thing about the man. He would much rather prefer a ranting, foaming-at-the-mouth cultist to Jacob’s psychopathic quiet.   

Morgan’s throat was dry. When he spoke, it came out as a rasp.

“What? What are you planning to do with that, huh? Play me some oldies for me-”

Jacob did not reply. He opened the box right in front of Morgan’s face.

The edges of his vision pulsed. He felt his body convulsing, like he was in the midst of a violent seizure. Morgan wanted to scream, but it was like his mouth was glued shut. In fact, it was like something else had completely taken over his motor functions.

He noticed the other captives flailing about in their chairs.

 _What the fuck did you do to me?_ Morgan managed to think.

Then he blacked out.

* * *

 

Morgan’s eyes shot open. He was free of the restraints and had full control of his body. The room was bathed with an unnatural, angry red light. The two other captives were shaking free of their bindings.

On a metal table before him, highlighted by an ironically angelic looking shaft of light, was a Smith and Wesson revolver.

The first man was loose of his bonds. Morgan looked at the revolver and back to him.

Something clicked in his brain.

_He needs to die. They all need to die. Kill them before they get you. Do it now. Now, now, now!_

He made a grab for the revolver. Morgan raised the heavy firearm and aimed at the head of the man, who turned to face him, a twisted, vicious look on his face.

Morgan pulled the trigger.

* * *

 Jess stared at her walkie talkie.

Three days. That was the last time she heard from Morgan. He said he was heading up to the Whitetails. He told her he would call her if he needed help. That call never came.

It was simply not like Morgan to not give her a call. The Whitetails were her turf, too. He knew that. She expected to be saving his ass every day by now. Jess had asked around. No one had seen him around. As much as she hated the thought, she was concerned.

Concerned. That meant she cared about him.

When was the last time Jess Black cared about anyone?

 _It’s because the Resistance needs him. He’s leading the fight_ , she told herself.

Was that really the whole truth, though?

A part of Jess told her she was concerned because, well, she genuinely, truly, wholeheartedly cared about what happened to the deputy.

 _Oh, boy. Is it because you’re starting to see him as more than just an ally, Jessica?_ The little nagging voice teased.

As she strode into the halls of the Wolf’s Den, she wanted to scream at that fucking annoying voice in her head.

She refrained, thankfully.

Jess passed several milling Whitetails, who were busy with their various tasks. Passing a guy hauling two ammo cans of .50 BMG cartridges, Jess entered Eli’s “war room.”

He was busy conferring with one of his lieutenants. The two men were busy pointing to a marked-up map of the mountains and tossing about assorted military jargon.

“Eli?” Jess said.

He looked up.

“Jess! Nice to see you. Just give me a second to wrap this up.”

She sighed and licked her lips.

“Eli, I need to talk to you now.”

Eli peered back up at her and met her eyes. He knew the look she was giving him.

“Just go and get it done. Don’t forget the fifty cal,” Eli instructed his soldier. The second man nodded curtly and departed, giving Eli and Jess the room.

Eli smiled softly at her.

“What’s wrong, Jess?”  

“You know… the deputy right? _The_ deputy?”

Eli laughed.

“Yeah, Dutch has been keeping me up on his adventures. Morgan, isn’t it? I heard he single handedly took down John in the valley. I heard he was making moves around this place, but, I haven’t been able to get in touch with him yet. Why?”

“No one’s heard from him in three days. That’s not like him. Usually, he had me rolling with him every day.”

Eli looked down at the map, contemplative.

“Do you think something happened?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think Jacob’s got to him.”

Eli looked back to her.

“Jacob? Shit. Fuck! Well, we can’t get him back easy if that’s the case.”

“You know, I was doing some poking around the old lodge. You know. Elk Jaw. I saw a lot of Peggies down there, bringing in prisoners a few days ago. I think the fuckers have Morgan and some of your other guys locked up, doing whatever the hell they’re up to.”

“You sure? Like, really sure? I’m strapped for men and guns, Jess. I can’t spare the time for wild goose chases.”

“I wouldn’t be coming to you with this unless I was sure-as-fucking-sure,” Jess said, low but forcefully.

Weighing her words and his choices, Eli stared at the far wall. Eventually, he nodded.

“Alright. I trust you Jess. I’ll get some guys together.”

He picked up the compound bow that rarely strayed from his side.

“If he’s there and he’s… alive, we’ll take him back to the Den and fix him up,” he said as he went to exit.

Jess nodded.

“Eli?” she said after him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Eli smiled slightly.

“He’s a hero. We’re gonna need him.”

* * *

 Time had passed at an uncertain pace. Morgan did not know how many minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years he had been there, lying on his side. His eyes were fixed on the opposite wall. There was something scrawled there.

ONLY YOU.

_Only you…_

The door to the room opened. Morgan faintly perceived footfalls and the sound of voices. Figures clad in camo fanned out, picking through the room. Morgan tried to focus on what they were saying, but his mind remained trapped in the haze that had settled over him an eternity ago.

Someone came over to him and righted the chair he was strapped to. It was a kid, well, not a kid, but a young adult. But certainly not a grown man. Morgan focused on the patch sewn onto his shirt- Whitetail Militia.

“Holy shit!” the kid exclaimed as Morgan blinked up at him. He was caught off guard and roughly dropped Morgan back to the floor.

“Oh fuck!” he cried, backing away.

“What?” another man asked before coming over to the kid.

Morgan looked up at the other man. He was tall, built like a brickhouse, and looked like a proper survivalist with his shaggy beard and long hair.

“Live one! Walker, go get the truck!” the man called to someone out of Morgan’s field of view.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the kid that dropped Morgan apologized. The survivalist gently pushed him away.

“Gimme a hand, kid,” he said before they both righted Morgan.

“Eli? Is this-” the kid began.

“Yup.”

Morgan felt the bindings being cut from his wrists and shins.

“What the fuck is the deputy doing here?”

“Jacob took a shine to ‘em, same as us,” the survivalist, Eli, explained.

Morgan put two and two together. This must be the mythical Eli, leader of the Whitetail Militia.

“You’re gonna be okay, hero. Whitetail’s gotcha now,” Eli reassured Morgan as him and his comrade hauled him to his feet.

“We’re bringing him back to the Wolf’s Den?” the kid inquired.

“Where else?”

“Tammy is not going to like this…”

“Don’t worry about Tammy. She’ll be fine,” Eli assured him.

Morgan tried to speak, but he passed out once more.

* * *

He woke on a couch, within the cool, bare interior of a bunker.

“Hey.”

Morgan searched around for the familiar voice.

Jess was sitting in a chair nearby.

“Jess?” he asked.

“That’s me.”

Morgan rubbed his head. He felt tired, sore, and parched.

“Where am I?”

“Eli found you. After I convinced him to go look for you.”

“Oh. Am I okay?”

She smirked and shrugged.

“You’re breathing. That’s okay enough for me.”

“Right,” Morgan mumbled before trying to get on his feet.

“Hey, what the fuck you think you’re doing?” Jess snapped, shooting up from her seat and practically shoving him back down onto the couch.

“I got work to do.”

“That can wait.”

“No, Jacob, he’s-”

“It can _wait_. For just a few hours, Morgan.”

He sighed and nodded at her.

“Alright. Fine… I could actually use a break.”

“There you go. That wasn’t hard, right?”

He exhaled deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Did you really send Eli after me?” he asked her.

“Yep.”

“Why?”

She paused.

“Because I actually care about you, believe it or not.”  

_And I care a bit more than I’m letting on!_

Jess silently told her inner voice to shut the fuck up.

“That’s reassuring. If I died, you’d have to find some new deputy to kill Peggies with.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss that, would we?”

They both chuckled. Morgan and Jess both fell silent.

“Thanks,” he finally said after a moment.

“Yeah, no problem, man. You saved me. You best be sure I’ll do the same for you.”

He held out his hand. Jess, hesitant at first, slowly reached out to take it. He squeezed it.

“We make a good team, Jess.”

Jess felt her heart thump a bit more rapidly. She met his eyes.

“Yeah. We do, don’t we?”    


	6. Chapter 6

The Wolf's Den was not a quiet place. People were moving in and out, talking in the hallways, or going about their activities. It made for an easy environment to move quietly, especially for someone like Jess Black.

The huntress stalked down the hall, hood up, bow secured across her back. She was making her way down to Morgan's quarters, where the deputy had been resting up after his confrontation with Jacob. It had been a few days now since the Whitetails recovered him.

Jess was starting to feel him out a bit more at this point. Feeling out who he was and how he acted, be in during a fight or out of it.

She felt that he was a bit like her- not one to rest for any longer than than he absolutely needed to.

Jess reached where they had put up Morgan. She softly walked past the threshold and was about to rap her fist on the doorframe to alert him.

She paused.

His back was to her and he was stripped down to the waist. Jess's fist hovered in place as she debated whether to alert him to her presence. Half of her mind told her to just retreat to avoid the awkward moment that would ensue.

The other half of her brain said  _Well, shit, Jessica. Why don't you just enjoy this for a little bit?_

She dropped her hand down to her side.

Jess admired his back muscles as he leaned over to search the cot before him for a fresh shirt. Morgan was certainly no bodybuilder, but that was fine. There was  _certainly_ enough definition there for her.

She blinked.

_You really thinking about this? Focus. Think about… something else._

_Like pushing him onto that bed and seeing if you can help him out of the jeans?_ The now very familiar voice in her head asked.

Morgan picked up a black t-shirt and sniffed it. He quietly said "ugh" and tossed it away. She watched him settle on a gray henley and toss it over his torso, much to her chagrin.

Jess rapped on the door just as he turned around.

"Hey, dude," she greeted.

"Oh, hey, there you are."

"You were looking for me?"

"Yep," Morgan said as he gathered up his pack and weapons.

"And for what exactly?"

He smiled at her while adjusting his pack straps.

"I'm moving out and I figured you'd want to head out with me."

Jess gave her own smile back.

"I'd be pretty pissed if you didn't let me tag along, you know."

"That's why I'm taking you with me- wouldn't want to get on your bad side."

Jess chuckled as they made their way out of his room for the exit.

"You're figuring this shit out pretty quick, huh?"

"Yeah. It's taken me a while, but I got it."

The pair shuffled over to the side of the hallway to let a pair of passing militiamen hauling AT4 rocket launchers in the opposite direction.

"And where are we going next?" Jess inquired.

"I think it's about time I head down to the Henbane River."

"Henbane, huh? What's down there- despite that stupid bitch Faith and her groupies?"

"I've heard some things over the radio. There's some people at the County Jail who've been holding out against the cult. I think Virgil Minkler's there."

"Remind me…?" Jess asked.

"The mayor of Fall's End."

"Oh. Him. Shit. He's still alive? I thought the fuckin' Peggies would've gotten to him by now."

Morgan looked at her as they reached the ladder to exit the bunker.

"Apparently not."

He nodded at the rungs.

"Ladies first?"

Jess flipped him off. Morgan chuckled and began to climb.

* * *

Morgan pulled their commandeered Jeep to the side of the road and put it in park.

Jess groaned and stretched in the passenger's seat.

"Fuckin'  _finally_. Let's get walking. I hate driving around, 'cause-"

"Yeah, yeah, because they can't hear you coming that way, right?"

She frowned at him.

"Fuck you."

He smiled sweetly.

"Love you too, Jess," Morgan replied while opening the door and hopping out. Jess quickly followed.

"So… how's the Henbane River this time of year?"

Jess shrugged.

"It's okay, I guess. If you like Bliss and zombies, sure. On top of the usual motherfucking Peggies running around and fucking everything up."

"Wait… Bliss? That's the drug they use, right?"

She nodded.

"Mm-hmm. They grow the flowers for it here and it gets manufactured in that cunt Faith's bunker."

"And, uh, what about… zombies?"

"Okay, maybe they're not  _actually_  zombies but it's pretty damn close."

Morgan scoffed.

"Well, that still doesn't really help."

"Okay. Fine. Look, Faith uses these people she calls Angels. They're folks who've been OD'd on Bliss. Like, really, really OD'd. They're just shells of people now, pretty much mindless. The cult herds them around and uses them for labor or fighting. Oh, and they don't really feel pain anymore so they can take a few bullets to the chest and keep on going. A nice, clean headshot should still work, though."

Morgan shook his head.

"Jesus," he mumbled.

"You're telling me, man."

Morgan withdrew his radio from his belt and messed with the tuning.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm trying to see if I can get a signal from the jail…"

He finally managed to settle on some voices coming through the static.

" _Hello? Is anyone out there? There is Virgil Minkler at the Hope County jail… we need help! I repeat: we need help! The Peggies are trying to break down the gate! If there's anyone nearby… hurry!_   _I don't know how long we have!_ "

Morgan looked up at Jess, who was already gazing at him with a familiar look in her eyes.

"Jail ain't too far," she said.

"Let's hit it, then."

The two broke off in a run toward the embattled jail.

* * *

"Shit! A few more, over there!" someone shouted.

Sheriff Earl Whitehorse gritted his teeth as he shoved a new magazine into his AR-15. The cult was coming in full force, throwing dozens of their number against the walls of the prison. The defenders had cut down numerous attackers, but they just kept coming.

Whitehorse raised his head over the hastily erected battlements. As soon as he did, bullets whizzed over his head.

The sheriff dropped down and clambered over to another part of the wall. A fellow resistance member was unloading his rifle into the approaching cultists. He suddenly yelped and pressed a hand onto his left shoulder.

"You okay?" Whitehorse asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. They just winged me!" the man replied.

He turned to face forward. A rifle round smashed into his forehead and blew out the back of his skull. The fighter jerked back and dropped.

"Shit," Whitehorse mumbled as he leaned up and began firing at a pair of Peggies scrambling out of cover. Two rounds caught the first man, causing him to flop onto his back as if he had just run into an invisible clothesline. His partner paused for the briefest of moments, allowing Whitehorse to line up and pull the trigger for a fatal headshot.

"Keep into them! Don't give them an inch!" he shouted over the din.

He knew it was a losing battle. There were just too many cultists and too few resistance fighters. All it took was time to wear them down…

A pickup truck carrying yet more cultists pulled up the road into the parking lot. The cultists in the bed began to disperse, firing their weapons at the wall. Whitehorse focused his fire on them and dropped two, but their buddies turned their guns on him. He could feel bullets disturbing the air around him. He then registered a stinging pain on his shoulder and could feel a thin stream of blood dripping down his sleeve. It was just a graze, but their aim was getting better.

He pulled the trigger, only for his rifle to click on an empty chamber. Whitehorse pushed the magazine release, letting the empty plastic magazine drop to the ground. The sheriff grabbed a fresh magazine from his pocket and tried to shove it into the magwell as fast as possible. He briefly looked up to see a cultist raising his rifle to sight him up.

The cultist shouted and stumbled a few steps forward. He then fell onto his face, an arrow in his back. Three other cultists nearby were quickly cut down, two with gunfire to their backs and one with an arrow that cleanly passed through his throat.

Whitehorse looked out toward the guard post and saw a man and a woman running into the fray. The woman was carrying a bow and arrow while her companion fired a rifle at the Peggies who were surprised by their appearance.

 _Where the hell did they come from? They certainly ain't Peggies_ , he thought.

The man was saying something to the woman, who nodded before running ahead. He then looked up at the prison walls.

Whitehorse's eyes widened in recognition. Was it really…?

Yeah, it was.

Whitehorse grabbed his radio and tuned to the frequency his deputy always used.

"Hey, is that you, Rook? Thank Christ! Help us out here!"

* * *

Morgan heard the sheriff addressing him and picked up the radio on his hip.

"Sheriff! Yeah, it's me. Let's get these bastards out of here!"

Morgan sat in cover behind the wreck of a pickup truck. He popped his body out every so often to take down the cultists gunning for him. One thing he had noticed during his time fighting the cult was that they were fanatical, but untrained, fighters. They were prone to standing in the open during a gunfight or running head-first at their enemies.

Easy pickings for men like Morgan and women like Jess.

The huntress was moving through the wreckage-strewn parking lot, moving from cover to cover and taking shots when she found them. The cultists struggled to keep up with her, let alone put up a fight.

She killed one cultist with an arrow through the heart. Another one charged her with an old bayonet in one hand. Jess deftly dodged underneath his arm and rapidly stabbed him twice in the flank with her own hunting knife. She nocked a fresh arrow and turned around just in time to release it into a cultist shoving a magazine into his pistol.

The remaining Peggies had obviously not been ready for this turn of events. With more of their comrades falling each passing second, the remaining Eden's Gate fighters began to withdraw. Jess and Morgan met up and fired arrows and bullets into the stragglers until they all disappeared down the hill.

"All your pieces intact?" Morgan asked her as he loaded a new magazine into his rifle.

"The ones that count."

He smirked in reply.

"Nice work, as always."

"Is there any other kind of work I do, man?"

"Hey! Come on!" a resistance fighter shouted as he pushed open a door to the prison.

Morgan and Jess looked at each other.

"Alright. Let's go to prison," he said.

* * *

With Jess by his side, Morgan strode up the courtyard of the old prison, his rifle at rest and slung across his chest.

Resistance fighters were gathering up the dead and wounded. Morgan's stomach twisted as they walked toward Whitehorse, who was directing the actions of various men and women around him.

He looked up and saw Morgan while he was in the midst of loading a fresh magazine into his shiny, nickel finished Colt MK IV Series 70 pistol. Morgan felt that there were better sidearms to carry than a seven round .45, but Whitehorse was a fan of the classics.

"Holy shit… Rook!" Whitehorse called as he hit the slide release on his pistol.

"Hello, sheriff," Morgan said with a smile.

Whitehorse's mustache curled up as he grinned at his deputy.

"You really saved our bacon," Whitehorse began as he put a hand on Morgan's shoulder, "they've been throwing themselves at these walls for days, just won't let up. Really kicked up a hornet's nest-"

A gunshot interrupted their reunion.

"Trucks on the road!" someone cried as a resistance member fell from the battlements.

"Dammit, medic!" Whitehorse called as he knelt by the body.

"Rook, I need you up on that wall," he said, gesturing upward.

"Okay. Jess?"

Whitehorse looked up at Jess and did a double take. She scowled at him and blinked.

"Hey… you're Jessica. Russell and Juliet's daughter?"

"Yep."

He nodded, his eyes showing a hint of sadness, as if he was remembering the now mostly deceased Black family.

"Glad you're with us, Jessica."

"Yeah, cool," Jess muttered as she turned to follow Morgan up the ladder to the wall.

The battle had already resumed in a furious chorus of gunfire that both came from and toward the wall. Morgan saw several Eden's Gate vehicles full of fresh fighters coming up the road. Rifle fire caused the lead Jeep to spin out and crash into the burning wreck of a prison bus.

The other vehicles came to a halt to disgorge their reinforcements. There seemed to just be an endless amount of men pouring out of the trucks and cars.

"What the fuck, are they driving clown cars now?" Jess angrily said as she let loose several arrows in succession.

A hissing noise suddenly started next to Morgan. He looked down and felt his eyes grow wide at the sight of a pipe bomb sitting next to him, thrown by one of the attackers.

"Ah, shit!" he snapped as he scooped up the lit bomb and tossed it back down. There was barely any fuse left at that point- it exploded in midair next to an Eden's Gate pickup, causing the truck to flip onto its side and kill several Peggies with the blast.

"They're coming up the walls!" a resistance member shouted.

Morgan turned to see two fighters drop as a group of cultists scrambled up the walls via a pair of ladders and unloaded their weapons into them.

"These fuckin' guys, I swear!" Jess shouted.

Morgan dropped into cover behind a group of crates, showing only the tiniest bit of his body so he could fire on the attackers.

Three cultists fell, one after the other before Morgan stopped to reload. Jess stepped up, an ignited arrow nocked into her bow. She let loose and the arrow sailed into a fighter hauling himself up over the wall. His clothes immediately became alight with orange flame, causing the man to scream and flail before falling and knocking down the other cultists coming after him, setting them ablaze as well.

"Nice!" Morgan complimented.

"Don't mention it," she said as she ran past.

"More coming up!"

Morgan turned and saw a battered M939 truck coming toward the jail. The old military surplus cargo truck had been repainted in Eden's Gate white and appropriately covered with cultist iconography. A large group of armed cultists sat in the bed.

"Where the hell did they get that thing from?" Morgan wondered aloud.

"You can get them for, like, two thousand bucks on government auction sites," a fighter next to him said.

"Oh, I'll keep that in mind when I'm Christmas shopping," Morgan muttered as he reached into his vest for a stick of dynamite- his last one.

"Okay, here goes nothing," Morgan said to himself as he pressed the flame of his lighter to the fuse.

Morgan took a few steps back and winded up his arm before letting the stick loose. It somersaulted through the air, the eyes of everyone on the walls fixed upon it for a few seconds.

The lit dynamite landed in the middle of the bed. Everyone heard the fighters shouting as they tried to throw it back out. A few men jumped from the moving truck, but it was too late. The truck was consumed in a huge explosion that annihilated the passengers and engulfed the blackened wreckage in flames.

"Now that was a nice toss," Jess said as she walked up to him.

"It was, if I do say so myself."

They both smiled and chuckled.

Whitehorse pointed down the road.

"Another one incoming!" Whitehorse shouted.

Jess groaned.

"Do these assholes  _ever_  give up?"

It was a tanker truck, gunning right for the gates.

"Shit! It's heading for the gates! Take it out!" Whitehorse yelled to the fighters.

"You wouldn't happen to have another one of those things, would you?" Jess asked.

"Uh… no."

"Of course not," she grumbled.

"Rook! We got some launchers in that crate by your feet!" Whitehorse shouted over to him.

The truck rapidly approaching, Morgan hurriedly wrenched open a black polymer crate and found a collapsed M72 LAW resting within.

"Oh, nice," he said to himself as he picked up the tubular launcher and rested it on his shoulder. Morgan popped off the end caps and did his best to sight up the incoming truck.

"Dodge this…"

He pressed the trigger. Nothing happened.

Morgan looked quizzically at the rocket launcher.

He heard several people shouting at him. They were gesturing wildly while shouting several things at him.

"Pull it, Rook! Pull the back!" Whitehorse was yelling.

"Oh."

Morgan sharply extended the rear portion of the LAW, which automatically popped up the sights.

 _Well, that makes it a bit easier_ , he thought.

"Okay…"

He pressed the trigger again. Still, nothing happened.

"Turn off the safety!" Whitehorse quickly advised.

Morgan groped around until he managed to flick on the "arm" switch.

"Third time's the charm…" he muttered.

This time, when Morgan depressed the trigger, the rocket flew out of the muzzle, trailing smoke behind it. Hot exhaust gases billowed from behind the launcher's rear. The rocket streamed toward the truck, which was now getting dangerously close to the gate.

The rocket pierced the windshield, missing the driver by a hair. It punched through the rear of the cab and into the tanker full of fuel. A microsecond later, the rocket exploded and reduced the tanker truck to several blackened pieces of wreckage. Morgan stumbled on his feet as the shockwave from the blast hit him and the rest of the defenders.

With satisfaction, Morgan gently placed the used launcher on the ground. He watched the massive fire he had created throw thick, black smoke into the air.

"Goddamn, Rook!" Whitehorse cheered.

He laughed.

"Took a few tries, sheriff."

"Geez, man," Jess said, "even I know how to work one of those things."

"Oh, come on, I haven't had a lot of practice."

Whitehorse walked over to Morgan, nodding slowly with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Alright, son. Looks like we got 'em all. Come down and let's talk."

* * *

Morgan and Jess trailed after Whitehorse as he walked between the numerous resistance forces collecting the dead and wounded, gathering discarded weapons, and putting out the numerous fires that had cropped up.

Whitehorse looked up at Morgan as the latter held open a door to let a pair of stretcher bearers bring a wounded man inside. He chuckled and shook his head, seemingly very aware of how much his life had made a turn.

"You know? I was gonna retire last year. Was worried I'd get bored."

Morgan matched his mirthless chuckle.

"Plenty of excitement to go around."

"Hey. You're gonna introduce us or we just gonna stand around here all awkward and shit?" a hooded Black woman said as she navigated a stretcher into the prison.

"Hey, Jess. Nice to see you here, I guess," the woman added a second after.

"Sup, Tracey?"

"Language!" Mayor Virgil Minkler chided.

"Oh, fuck off, Virgil. Not today," Tracey snapped.

"I have told you: a vulgar mind is a sign of- you're not wearing your button!"

"No, I'm not wearing it," an exasperated Tracey replied.

"But we're Cougars!" Virgil started.

"I'll need a casualty report," the sheriff began. Morgan stuck with him to avoid the argument he could feel was brewing.

"The sheriff is wearing his button," Virgil said, pointing to Whitehorse, "this person is- I'm sorry, who is this?"

Virgil was pointing at Morgan with a puzzled look.

"Uh, mayor, I'm Morgan. I lived in Fall's End for a bit."

"It's one of my deputies," Whitehorse introduced, clapping a hand on Morgan's back.

"I thought you said your deputies were taken," Tracey said with incredulity.

"This one wasn't. Been giving Eden's Gate a hell of a time from what I hear."

Tracey made a face.

"That so. Well, I hope you plan on pitching in. No room for free loaders," she spat before walking off.

"Tracey's alright once she gets to know you," Whitehorse offered with a sympathetic look, "she's right about the work, though. There's plenty to be done around here. Just ask around."

"You can count on us, sheriff," Morgan said.

Jess chuckled.

"Guess I just got volunteered," she said.

Whitehorse smiled and looked over both of them for a moment.

"Good to have you back, Rook. And I'm glad you're okay, Jessica."

"Everyone calls me Jess, by the way," she said as Whitehorse walked away, hands on his hips and ready to deal with another crisis.

Virgil smiled awkwardly at Morgan and Jess. He reached into the box tucked under his arm and withdrew a pair of buttons with the emblem of the Hope County Cougars on it, a newly-adopted symbol of the Henbane River resistance that started life as the county's minor league baseball team.

He offered the buttons to the pair. Morgan took one and Jess slowly grabbed the other one.

Virgil looked at them and smiled.

Morgan pinned his button to the tan plate carrier he was wearing. Jess stuffed hers into a jacket pocket.

The mayor cracked an awkward grin

"Okay, then," he said before walking off.

* * *

"You sure about this?"

Morgan looked up from the AR-15 magazine he was loading with fresh ammunition.

Jess sat across from him, playing with the string of her bow.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Morgan replied.

Jess sighed.

"Morgan, I mean it when I say there's a  _lot_  of bad shit out there. I know you're a badass and all, but I would definitely want someone watching my back out there. With that fucking Bliss everywhere? You won't be able to tell what's real and what's a goddamn illusion."

He tapped his temple.

"My brain's hard to mess with."

She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say, dude."

"It'll just be a quick trip to see what's what around the area. I'll be back in, like, an hour."

"Still don't like it."

"What?" Morgan asked with a wry smile, "you worried?"

Jess opened her mouth and then paused. Morgan blinked his moss green eyes as she started into them.

She was silent for a bit, enough to give her just a bit of time to think about what words should come out of her mouth.

It ended up being something simple.

"Yeah," she managed quietly.

Morgan leaned back. He looked somewhat surprised. She could not really fault him for feeling that way.

"Wow, uh, that's… unexpected."

"Why's that?" Jess asked.

He shrugged.

"I dunno. I figured I was just helpful to you because I pointed out the Peggies for you to take down."

Jess offered a small smirk.

"Well, you are pretty useful in that way. But… you… you're a good guy. And I'm glad I'm here to watch your back."

Morgan was quiet for a while. He looked at her with unreadable eyes, but Jess felt it was for a good reason. She took the moment to scan his face, admiring his beautiful, bright eyes, the way his dark hair was always perfectly swept into place, how he had just the right amount of stubble along his carefully sculpted jawline and cheeks.

 _What a handsome motherfucker you are_ , she thought. It was not even the nagging little voice this time that said that.

"I'm glad you're here with me… to, uh, watch my back," Morgan finally said.

"Yeah. Of course."

They smiled at each other. Morgan briefly looked down and played with the rifle magazine in his hand. Jess could see his cheeks were a slight shade of red.

"Right," he breathed while standing up and putting the loaded mag into place, "time to get going. I'll call you up later. You can go and do your thing, I'll be back."

"Nah, I'll just… I'll wait for you. Cool?"

He nodded.

"Cool."

Jess watched Morgan as he left the jail. She felt like she should have insisted that she come with him. But, she did not want to press it. He was an adult. He was capable. He could handle himself- especially since it was just a little venture.

However, a feeling in the pit of her stomach told her this would not end well.

* * *

His head was light. He felt like he was dreaming, drifting through a hazy sea.

The last thing Morgan remembered was a white light consuming his vision. Then, he was somewhere else. A place covered in a misty miasma, a fog that may or may not have existed in his mind.

A figure walked, or rather appeared, out of the mist. It was a young woman, angelically beautiful, with golden hair and bright green eyes.

Morgan recognized her immediately.

 _Faith… Faith Seed…_ his mind put together.

Faith smiled at him and lightly blew a green dust into his face.

"Welcome to the Bliss," she whispered all around him.

* * *

"I know you've heard stories about me. That I'm a liar. A manipulator."

Faith seemed to materialize out of thin air. She was grasping his right hand.

"That I poison people's minds… well, let me tell you a different story. A true story."

Morgan felt like he was walking on air. The Bliss was warm, peaceful, and calm. He could stay here forever…

They walked together. Morgan ran his hands over the stems of plants that grew around him.

Faith grabbed Morgan by both hands and gently, but eagerly, bought him down to sit before her.

"There once was a young woman," she began, "who had been ostracized by her community. Bullied by her friends. Abused by her family. She took to a needle for help. She was all alone. She wanted to die."

Morgan nodded. His mind was both here and somewhere far away.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Faith's face suddenly brightened.

"And then she met the Father."

Faith giggled and hauled Morgan up by one hand.

"He gave her hope, and confidence. The Father showed her how special she was, that she was full of love and life. He gave her a new family. One that accept her just as she was. The young woman no longer wished to die. She had been given purpose."

Suddenly, they were floating. Morgan's hands were pressed into Faith's.

"And I can see you searching, Morgan. You look so lost. I see you searching for that same purpose. You run this way and that, listening to those people that you call your 'friends.' They tell you to go here, and do this, and do that, and do this, and that. That doesn't seem very healthy to me, Morgan."

"I'm helping people. I want to help," he said.

Faith smiled sadly, as if she felt for him.

"I know. We all want to do the best by the people we care about. But, is this really what you're meant to be, Morgan? Someone's errand boy?"

"I…"

Faith shook her head.

"No. No, I don't think so. And I see how you're always with her. Jess Black. I know you see something more in her, something more than just a friend. I know you  _desire_  her. That you have these feelings you are too scared to act on. But, she's just like the rest. She's leading you astray. Using you, taking advantage of your kindness. You think she cares about you- you  _hope_  she cares about you."

Morgan looked down. He found himself standing on the open book of the massive statue of Joseph that leered over the Henbane River.

"But she doesn't, at the end of the day. She'll leave you behind faster than you can blink."

"No… no…" Morgan mumbled, shaking his head slowly.

Faith smiled sympathetically.

"The Father will keep his word. He will never let you down. Won't desert you, won't use you. You just need to have faith."

Morgan became somewhat aware that Marshal Cameron Burke was standing next to Morgan, watching Faith hover in the air.

"The path to Eden is clear to those who have faith," Faith said.

Burke turned to Morgan, smiling as he stretched out an encouraging hand.

"Walk the path," he said.

Burke took a step forward, spread his arms, and dropped off the statue.

Morgan looked over the edge. Burke was nowhere to be found.

"I… can't."

But something told Morgan he could. He had to.

Morgan stepped forward, putting one foot in front of the other until the next thing he knew, he was off the edge.

He was falling. The ground below came closer and closer. Morgan wanted to scream.

"I will give you purpose. I will set you free," Faith whispered into his ear.

Morgan hit the ground.


End file.
